


You Won't Find God Here

by fuzzyhorse



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Angst, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur is a high key good guy, Arthur morgan is kind of an idiot, Arthur needs to use his words, Character Death, Dutch Van Der Linde is an Ass Hole, F/M, Graphic Description, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Red Dead Redemption, May contain spoilers, Medium Honor Arthur Morgan, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Pre-Blackwater Heist, Protective Arthur, Reader fic - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Plot, Some Spoilers, Unresolved Romantic Tension, before blackwater heist, he just doesn't know how to talk to women, red dead redemption 2 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2020-11-21 18:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20859068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyhorse/pseuds/fuzzyhorse
Summary: Living in high society, I’d grown accustomed to the lifestyle of the rich. But I ached for a better life outside of the dinner parties and gatherings. When my mother died, my father moved us to a farm in West Elizabeth, settling on a nice piece of land per the suggestion of Mr. Cornwall, my father’s childhood friend. Things were peaceful until the day my family farm was raided and my entire family was slaughtered by the O’Driscolls. I tried to make a run for it but didn’t even make it to the stables before getting caught; my brother dying in my arms. My only hope of escape was to try and make a run for it. Now, I have no idea how, when, or if I’ll ever make it out of here with my life, but I can only pray that God will rain Hell itself down upon the men who did this to my family because if God won’t, he knows I will.





	1. Prologue - Blackwater I

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting any of my work so if anyone does end up reading it, please be gentle!  
I've written many different stories, many variations of those stories, and never posted any of them so this is the first one that I've actually taken the risk on to post!
> 
> Find me on tumblr! 
> 
> https://zuluoscarech0.tumblr.com/

#  ** BLACKWATER I **

Years of lessons that were grooming me to be the replica of everyone in a higher social class, full of poise and grace. Unbelievably high expectations from an overbearing mother and alcoholic father constricted my surrounding air, forcing me to breathe a stuffy existence. I couldn’t breathe in that house. The only escape was my brother, Griffin. He seemed to be the only one that understood that some girls aren’t made for fancy tea parties and grammar lessons. 

As a child, he taught me all the things my father disapproved of. Women aren’t meant to shoot guns or get their hems dirty from tracking animals. They aren’t meant to ride their horses in britches with their legs on both sides. And God forbid they have a mind of their own. But Griffin, he was the only one who truly saw me - the only one who cared enough to teach me how to survive the wild, not just survive dinner parties. 

Sure, there were times I thought about running away from it all. Detaching from the family name and becoming someone completely different. I’d often ride my mustang, Apollo, out to the fields near Hanging Dog Ranch and pretend I was an outlaw or a gunslinger like Annie Oakley or Black Belle.

I’d take my daddies revolver and practice shooting old whiskey bottles off a fallen tree. By the time I was old enough to know any better, I was too good for anyone to really stop me. Some days I found solace in those fields just listening to Apollo grazing while I felt the wind blow the flowers and the grass around me. The novels I’d read told tales of an unforgiving west, romanticizing outlaws to be the unsung hero I so desperately craved. 

When I was back in the confines of my studies and closed my eyes, the memory of the fields were so vivid, I could actually feel the dirt under my boots, crunching under each step. I could smell the gunpowder with each pull of the trigger, the shock in my wrist with each bullet. My daydreams brought me further and further away from the ranch, each time a little further than the last. 

My mother would tolerate small rebellions temporarily, knowing that she too once fled the same life as a child. There was no place in high society for morally loose women. Her upbringing in New York gave her a proper start. A well rounded and educated woman, she settled down, found a wealthy man to marry and had my brother, Griffin. But that wild side never left her a year after my brother was born, she ran away with another man without a single word. 

Mysterious as it was, it was even more so when she showed back up, 14 months later carrying a small, soft blanket with a tiny tuft of red hair poking out from the top. My father couldn’t turn them away, his reputation depended on his choice to take them back.

My mother on the other hand grew up with strong hands and an even stronger crack of the whip. Forcing the nature of society down on her in an attempt to crush any life her mother left in her. It worked, for a period of time. But eventually, she too became restless and started to flee during the night to explore the world off the estate she was a prisoner to.

** _17 Years Ago_ **

** _Boston_ **

_ “Mama! Mama! Look at me! I’m Annie Oakley!” I held up fathers pistol and attempted to pull the hammer down. _

_ “Emma! You give me that right this minute!” my mother yelled and snatched the pistol from my hands. _

_ I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, burning in the back of my throat. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, sniffling slightly and ducking my face behind my hair. _

_ “Emma, you mustn't play with guns. That’s not what ladies do,” she knelt down and brushed my hair back out of my face, pulling me in for a hug. _

_ “I just wanted to be a cowgirl mama. I’m sorry,” I sniffled into her blouse, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand. _

_ “Let’s get you cleaned up, we have guests coming over and we must present like proper ladies when we have guests to entertain. Shall we?” My mother stood up and pointed towards the stairs. I shuffled my feet upstairs where our lady's maid helped bathe and dress me for our guests._

_ Leviticus Cornwall was a slimy man. Even for 10 years old I still understood what that felt like. _

_ When I was called to the parlor, he sat there with my father, smoking cigars and sipping brandy like they always do when they are together. My mother stood behind me, one hand on my back and the other resting on top of my shoulder. _

_ “Mr. Cornwall, so pleased you could join us,” my mother gave a tight lipped smile. _

_ “Please, Annie, how many times must I tell you to Call me Levi. It’s just to formal. Mr. Cornwall. And young Emma, you’ve grown so much. You must be what, twelve? Thirteen years old now?” he bent over and pinched my cheek hard enough to leave a bright red mark. _

_ I pulled my head away and held my hand up over it. “I’m almost eleven now mister.” My mother gave me a small pat on the shoulder. _

_ “Ah, well you look lovely in that dress. Young girls these days, it’s so hard to tell their age, is it not?” he looked almost disappointed and let out a long sigh. _

_ “And your son? Griffin? Shall he be joining us later?” He turned to my father, brow arched as he raised his glass to his lips and took a long sip of brandy. _

_ “Griffin is actually away at school. He won’t be returning for another three weeks and then we will be discussing our plans for the summer,” my father gestured that we take our places beside him on the sofa. _

_ The conversation got boring, at least it did for a ten year old. They discussed things like businesses and oil, nothing that I would be interested in at all. I wanted to go back to my games upstairs. _ _I turned to my mother, tapping her on the arm and leaning with a cupped hand to her ear, “mama, can I please be excused to the restroom?” _

_She nodded her head, knowing full well that I didn’t intend to return._

** _Six Months Ago_ **

** _Blackwater_ **

I pointed his nose east, towards the sleepy town of Blackwater. His black mane blowing softly in the breeze underneath me as I nudge him forward by my heel, picking up the pace to a brisk trot. His black mane bounced with each step, flowing over my hands where they rested on top of his neck. Apollo has been my best mount since he showed up at my families stables. A mustang, brought in by the estate’s ranch hands, he was larger than average, a full 16 hands and sturdy. A jet black coat shone like the light reflecting off the Montana River. Specs of dirt or mud just rolled clean off his coat, never quite sticking.

The breeze that rolled in from the lake rustled the dark red curls around my face, tickling my nose. I pulled Apollo down to a walk as I approached the hill overlooking the town, taking note of the goings-on of the streets below us. We stopped at the top of the hill to survey the scene below us. 

Blackwater was an “up and coming town” my father would tell us. It was a far cry from Boston, but it was home. If I really felt the need to be in the city again, I could just take the train to Saint Denis although I had less and less desire to be among that breed of society any longer. The shops were all starting to open, signs turning to welcome in customers for the new day. People were already out bustling around on the sidewalks, men loading their provisions into their wagons or onto their horses, businessmen talking among themselves outside the post office, a herd of women walking towards the docks, no doubt to greet the morning ferry when it arrives. 

Apollo pulled at the bit, his head bobbing around to look at all of the things around him as we approached the edge of the streets. He always loved coming into town, he knew that he would get a carrot or two out of the deal. His ears flicked back and forth, listening to the new sounds coming alive around the town. Closing my eyes, the smell of fresh bread danced around my nostrils. It was soon replaced by the sound of someone vomiting outside the saloon after one too many from last night’s events, whatever that may have been. I scrunched my nose at the unappetizing sound and pushed on, shaking off the distaste. 

I gave a gentle nudge with the heel of my worn boots, urging him back into a lively trot onto the muddy bricks that pave the way through Blackwater. The rhythmic _ clip-clop _ of his hooves through the mud and puddles was a soothing sound, one that I would never grow tired of. Two women in fine dresses walk out from the post office, laughing to themselves. I remember a time when I would’ve been there with them. But now my time is spent pursuing other ventures.

Ahead of us is a group of men talking about the loan they need to secure from the bank. Society has many things to offer a man, and debt is surely at the top of that list. I’ve often heard my father discussing financial matters among other wealthy businessmen when we lived in the city. Their voices carried out of the smoking room under a veil of smoke and fine brandy.

In front of the saloon stood two horses, one cremello standing tied next to a bright silver gelding that was playfully nipping at the cremello’s reins. Apollo nickered out to the two horses as I slide out of the saddle and hitch to the nearby post. Pulling a carrot from the saddlebag, his attention returns quickly to my side. He lunges for the vegetable, reaching with his lips to take it from my palm, and with a scratch on the shoulder, I turn and head into the store. 

The bell to the general store chimed against the door, announcing the arrival to the shopkeeper. The new day’s sun spilled light through the windows onto the floor, illuminating the bottles lined along the windowsill. Colors of green and blue reflected against the floor, like the stained glass in the church if it were made from whiskey and tonics. 

The man behind the counter gives a friendly smile in my direction, “I’ll be with you in just a minute ma’am, have a look around in the meantime.” 

I nod, letting my eyes wander around the shop, stopping to notice the man at the counter flipping through the catalogue. 

I studied his stocky frame, noticing the dust that seems to stick to his skin and clothes. I let my eyes wander over his dirty blue striped shirt, down to his dark pants. A ragged black handkerchief hangs around his neck, caressing the strong frame of his jaw. A scar peeked through the scruffy beard he kept trimmed on his face while a worn leather hat rests on his head above the edges of soft brown hair fading up around his face. 

His sturdy hands scanned over the pages while he flipped through briskly, clearly searching for a particular item. I browsed through the shelves, turning my attention elsewhere. I picked up a bottle of Doc Crockett’s Miracle Tonic, inspecting the label, _ Hmph Unequalled Anywhere… _ The smooth glass felt cold in my fingers as I flipped the bottle over to inspect the back label. 

Placing it back on the shelf, I glanced back at the man finishing his business and gathering the supplies he had paid for into a bag. The cowboy looked over at me, giving me a piercing look with his shockingly hazel eyes. He appears to look clear through me, as if I were a ghost in front of him. It’s unnerving, making me quickly look away, suddenly finding the canned goods very interesting. 

He thanked the shopkeep and took his bag and turned to leave. “Ma’am” he tipped his hat in my direction and the bell chimed alerting of his exit. I felt my stomach suddenly unclench and a breath I didn’t know I had been holding in was released. Odd that such a man could make me react in a way that no one had made me react before. 

I shook off the surrounding air and approached the counter. Handing the list of items my father gave me this morning to the shopkeep, I smiled and explained that someone would be by with a wagon later today to pick everything up. We made a quick exchange and I turned to leave. I could see Apollo’s ears outside the window flapping as he shook his head at the flies buzzing around his head. 

I stepped out onto the sidewalk and pulled an apple from my bag. Apollo’s ears perked forward, following my every move. He stretched his neck out, his lip extended as far as he could reach. I took a few bites of the apple myself, savoring the crunchy sweetness. It was hard to find good apples in this area as most of the apples this time of year were too bitter. 

Once I’d eaten about half, I palmed the core and placed it under his nose allowing him to eat the final bits. Apollo devoured the core in record time, as if he were starving and this were the last apple he would ever eat in his life. 

“Hah, you are such a pig, you know that?” I chuckle as I scratch him on the face. 

I give a glance around the street for the two horses that were previously waiting for their riders. It was mostly empty, except for the few people walking back and forth conducting their daily business. Brushing it off, I took the reins in my hand and I walked down around the corner to the butcher. 

“Henry, pleasure as always,” I smiled and reached into my satchel, pulling out three perfect rabbit pelts. I placed them on the table in front of me. 

“Emma! I was wondering when I’d see you next. It’s been almost a week since your last visit. What did you bring me today?” Henry wiped his hands on his apron, making no difference to the dirt and grime that stained his fingers. 

“Rabbit pelts. I have the meat as well if you’d like it, but it’s not much to sell unfortunately. The game around here is getting thinner and thinner I’m afraid,” I pulled three small wrapped packages of meat and placed them next to the pelts. 

“Meat is meat, my dear. You bring me more than most of the hunters I have around,” Henry reached into a box and gathered a few bills and coins to exchange. 

“My brother and I are planning a hunting trip in the Grizzlies this weekend so I plan to have a nice deer or an elk for you.” I tucked the money into a small change purse and stuffed it into my satchel. 

“My shop is always open for your game, Emma!” Henry smiled a broad smile and glanced behind me. “Hello sir! Buying or selling?” 

I turned around to see who he was speaking to and came race to face with the man from the shop earlier. He stood almost a foot behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. His eyes were locked onto mine. I told my feet to move but I couldn’t unglue them from their current spot. 

“Sellin’,” he said in a low rough voice, his eyes never leaving mine. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly as he stepped around me, finally tearing his gaze up to Henry and breaking whatever odd trance he held over me. 

I blinked a few times and shook my head. _ Get it together Emma! _

“I’ll see you when we are back from our trip Henry!” I called behind me as I leapt into my saddle and kicked Apollo straight into a canter down the street, not once looking back behind me. I knew that man was still looking at me. Every hair on my body knew that he was. It was almost enough for me to throw myself into the lake to stop my skin from burning. 

What was it about this man that caused me to react in such a way? I’d never felt such an energy come over me ever in my life and I did not like it one bit. 

Apollo carried me up the path where the cobblestones stopped and the path turned back to dirt. The grass dried out and the plains stretched for miles. I decided I would take the long way back home. Our plantation was right on the other side of the Upper Montana River, north of Beachers Hope. If I went down by Manzanita Post and cut back north, that would give me some time to cool off before getting home. 

  
______________________________________________________

“What took you so long? I thought you were just droppin’ off that list and coming right back?” Griffin slid his arm around my shoulders and walked me back from the stables after I finished grooming Apollo from our ride back. 

“I went for a ride, no harm in that,” I playfully poked him in the ribs, sprinting off ahead of him.

“There is when Father is on a rampage. Cornwall is in town and Father is not happy with some of the extra, ahm, _ expenses _, this quarter,” He pulls my arm to get me to stop and face him. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault my rifle _ and _ both my pistols “needed new parts”.” my fingers air quoted around that last bit. “Besides, he wouldn’t have approved of me doing it if I asked him anyways so I figured it was best to just do it and ask for forgiveness. It’s what mama would’ve done.” I hung my head low, kicking a rock with my boot sheepishly. 

“Emma, you’re 27 years old, you should be married with children of your own by now and since you are off playing cowgirl, Father disapproves of you going off and spending money like this, _ especially on guns” _ Griffin gripped my shoulder and ducked his head to meet my eye level. 

“You can’t exactly deny what I’m sayin’, I might know what kind of woman you are, but Father ain’t a progressive man. You ain’t a stupid woman, so quit actin’ like you are,” he pulled me in for a hug. 

“Why can’t he just be more like you Grif?” I roll my eyes and let out a small laugh. 

“You just have to play your part for an hour or two and then you can go off and shoot your guns off like the madwoman you are,” he ruffs up my hair and gives me a slight push and we laugh, teasing each other as we walk towards the house. 

Rounding the side of the house, I see the carriage with CORNWALL painted in bright gold and green lettering on the side. I roll my eyes. I’ll give him credit, he never did things halfway. Always showed up in style and so everyone knew it was him. 

As I climbed the front steps, I noticed two more horses tied to the hitching post. In fact, it was the two horses from this morning outside the saloon in town. My mouth went slightly dry and I blinked a few times as if I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking at. 

I hurried through the door, not stopping to stomp off any dirt or mud from the barn, one of the lady’s maids calling out to me as I practically knocked over the men standing in the doorway. 

I came skidding to a stop to avoid plowing them over. The man from before was here, sitting in my parlor. I could feel the heat rushing up into my cheeks. I have no idea what caused me to abruptly confirm that it was him but here I am, panting madly after running into the room, still in my dirty riding clothes and clearly looking unpresentable by my fathers standards. 

My father stood up and cleared his throat, aggressively shaking his head and letting out a harsh breath in my direction. 

“This is my _ daughter _, Emma,” the word daughter rolled off his tongue like poison.

Am older and slightly more slender man stood up, taking my hand and introducing himself as Melvin. 

“And this gentleman here is my colleague, Arthur Callahan,” he nodded to the mystery man from the shop. I nodded at them, and to my father. 

“We were just conducting some business, boring for a lady darlin’. Why don’t you run along and get cleaned up for dinner. Leviticus is in town for dinner and we have a nice meal prepared,” my father grimaced at my attire. I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Callahan smirk at his discomfort for my fashion choices. 

The rest of the evening went by without any fuss. The two men that had come earlier didn’t stay long. They left shortly after I headed upstairs to clean myself up. By the time I had finished bathing and was wrapped in my robe, I’d walked to the balcony and peered over the edge, but their horses were long gone at that point. 

A part of me was disappointed although I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. I don’t know what I would have done if they had been here still. Probably only embarrassed myself further. Martha, my lady's maid, came to help me prepare for the evening. She had been with our family since before I was born. Had traveled from Ireland over to Boston and was hired by my father to help my mother when she was pregnant with Griffin. Sometimes I think she knows more about this family that I do. 

"Let's get you cleaned up miss," she poured a hot bath and laid out various soaps for me to use. I stripped down and climbed in, letting my hair fall down in waves over my back. I used a sponge and lathered up soap and started to scrub my hands and arms in an attempt to wash away the dirt that was glued to me. I moved onto my body and eventually my hair, scrubbing in circles to work up a good lather before taking a bucket of clean water and pouring it over myself to rinse off the soap. 

Once I had finished, Martha returned to help me dress for the evening. She picked out a light blue dress, per my father’s request to look presentable for Mr. Cornwall. It was lines with a tiny lace detail around the edge of the bodice and neckline, drawing the eye towards my breasts. I couldn’t stand wearing dresses anymore. I pulled and adjusted the dress but no matter what I did, I was still uncomfortable.

"Martha, can't we keep it loose? Please?" I was feeling claustrophobic in the restrictive clothing. 

"Not if you want to look like a bloated cow, miss," I laughed at her comment along with her. "Now suck it in," I let out a heavy sigh and did as she asked. 

Dinner was wonderful. A beautifully prepared venison with a Bordeaux sauce and potatoes and carrots. We were lucky that we could still afford a chef although we rarely had need for one. We didn’t have guests over often enough to cook meals as large or as extravagant as this. 

The men had retired to smoke and drink after dinner and would continue to do so well into the late evening, while I was exhausted from the day. I said my goodbyes to the guests, kissed my father on his cheek and retired to my room.

Finally rid of that god awful dress, I could think straight again. That only caused problems for me because thinking meant I could think about Mr. Callahan and if he were to do business here, what that would mean for me. It would be a nice change to have something nice to look at around here. It’s been a while since we’ve had a decent worker. I drifted off to sleep thinking about his hands and all the things I wanted him to do with them. 

______________________________________________________

I woke with a sudden start, hearing the echo of a gunshot cry out somewhere close to the house. Feet running through the house followed by screams and a loud banging on my bedroom door and my brother bursting through in nothing but his night trousers. 

“Emma, get up!” Griffin threw a pistol at me with his gun belt. I jumped out of bed, throwing my robe on over my chemise. I quickly strapped the gun belt on over all of my apparel and grabbed the gun. 

“What’s happ-” Griffin threw a bag at me and ripped open my wardrobe, throwing various items of clothes at me. 

“Quickly Em, get a bag, you don’t have time to argue,” he’s shoving jewelry into my satchel, and putting it over my shoulder, cinching it tight. “O’Driscoll’s.. They’re killin’ everyone they see. You have to run Em. I’ll meet you at our spot up at Riggs Station but you have to go now!” at this point he’s just shoving the bag into my arms and shoving me out of my balcony door.

“Don't make me leave without y-,” I tried to argue with him. 

“Emma, I’m not asking you to go…” he gave me the same look my father gives when he’s telling me what to do. 

I swallowed deeply, suddenly becoming very aware of the current situation. I looked over the balcony, there must have been twenty men, torches blazing all yelling and laughing. And those were only the ones I could see outside. Martha came bursting through the door screaming like a banshee. 

“Miss Emma! Oh miss Emma and Mr. Griffin you have to do som-” her words were cut short by the sound of a blade slicing across her throat. She blinked a few times and made an awful gurgling noise as blood splashed from the deep slash in her throat and she collapsed to the floor. An O’Driscoll stood behind her, grinning and laughing as he stepped over her body. 

He had a gun raised and pointed at Griffin, ready to shoot. My instinct kicked in and I aimed the pistol, pulled the hammer back, and fired. The bullet caught the man in the shoulder. Not fatal, but enough to slow him down. He screamed somethin’ awful. I quickly pulled the hammer back again and shot him in the head. Silence. 

My hands were shaking violently with the realization of what I’d just done. I dropped the pistol on the ground like it was a hot coal searing my skin. I’ve killed animals plenty of times but never in my life had I imagined taking a human life. 

“Emma you have to go, NOW,” Griffin grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard enough to bring me back to reality. 

“Grif I killed a man. Oh God, he’s dead, I just killed someone, oh God…” I looked down at the O’Driscoll laying on the floor, his eyes staring up at me like a freshly killed deer. I couldn’t stand to look at him for another second. 

“Emma you _ need to go n- _ ” ** _pop pop pop_ ** Griffin’s grip grew loose on my arms and his weight shifted into me. He looked at me and coughed.. _ Oh no… _ Blood splattered from his mouth over my face and it was like time suddenly stopped.

“Griffin no, no, no, oh god, no, please,” I begged. I looked behind him to see another man standing there, gun aimed and pointed at Griffin’s back. We fell to the floor together and I grabbed for the gun and aimed to shoot at the man. _ Click Click Click _. 

“Fucking Christ you didn’t think to load this thing?” I threw the pistol at the man, hitting him in the chest. I fell the the floor, sobbing while I held my brother in my arms. 

More men came to join us, clearly enjoying what they saw in front of them. 

“That her?” one of them asked the shooter,

“Oh yeah, that’s the girl. Get her tied up downstairs good and tight until the boss gets ‘ere,” I held onto my brother for dear life, tears pouring from my face. I looked at my hands now soaked in blood. 

“Emma, I lov-” Griffin's head rolled back and I screamed out as the men hoisted me away from my dying brother. 

“Griffin! No! I love you, Griffin, please don’t go, please,” I begged them which just made them laugh harder. These selfish bastards were cold and heartless. One man removed the gun holster and tore apart my room searching for any valuables while another bound my wrists together with some rope he had handy.

I screamed, kicked, punched, clawed, anything I could do to try and get away from them but it was no use. They could overpower me easily without even trying. My body started to ache from fighting. 

Once they completely violated my personal space, they walked me down the stairs in my blood soaked chemise, parading me in front of their comrades like a piece of meat. I couldn’t stop sobbing, thinking about my brother lying cold and lifeless on the floor above me. But that was just the beginning. As I came downstairs, the scene was even worse than I could imagine. 

My fathers employees lay in piles, slaughtered like animals. People who have watched me grow up, who have known me my entire life, all dead, and for what? Nothing could've prepared someone for a scene like this, but there, sitting in the parlor, drink and lit cigar in hand, was my father with a bullet hole right between his eyes. I couldn’t tell where the screams were coming from until I heard one of the men said,

“I’m tired of listening to you scream, go to sleep princess,” then something cold and hard smacked into the back of my head and then, there was darkness.


	2. Prologue - Blackwater II - Colm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Damn, looks like we were a hair too late,” Hosea interrupted the two as he handed Arthur the binoculars, nodding his head towards the house. He let out a frustrated sigh and held them up, trying to get a closer look at the current occupants. 
> 
> “O’Driscolls…” Arthur grumbled. He scanned left, looking for anyone recognizable. “I don’t see Colm though. Still we should let Dutch know.” 
> 
> As he scanned back to the right, he stopped, noticing two men struggling with someone. Looked like a woman they were dragging out of the house. Something familiar about her, he just couldn’t place it. 
> 
> “Hosea, you might want to have a look at this,” Arthur handed the binoculars back to Hosea, pointing towards the main house. He raised them, looking towards the commotion. A woman in a stained chemise was being dragged out of the house towards a wagon by two men.
> 
> “Maybe we ‘otta help the lady,” Hosea said, storing the binoculars and getting his cattleman out from his side. He looks at the men on their horses and lets out a long sigh, “well, shall we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left comments and kudos on chapter 1! I was NOT expecting that much attention at all! 
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone for being patient for this update! I recently got engaged so I've been extremely busy! October is the busiest month for me with work so I've been having a crazy time with work and wedding planning and family, plus the holidays are coming up so there's just so much going on! 
> 
> If you'd like to check out my tumblr, you can find me at https://zuluoscarech0.tumblr.com
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Lavender. Fields covered with lavender and pine. A creek running through the fog, caressing the stones that soak in the warmth from the rising sun. A buck with his herd, taking the drink of life from it’s fountain. A man, stalking his prey, letting the wind carry his scent away from the animal. He closes his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the heavens thanking the earth for the meal he will receive. When he opens his eyes, a fawn has joined his family. His heart breaks for what he must do, the absence of a father like he once knew as a child. He aims. Birds scattering at the sound of a bullet ripping through flesh. As the sun rises over the trees, silence descends over the valley and the creek is now running red with blood. Man and horse walk away, his bounty laid over his steeds back. The hunter will not go hungry tonight…  _

____________

“Good morning princess,” I hear a man speak behind me and squint my aching eyes open. Everything looks foggy to me but I can’t tell why. I tried to reach my hand up to touch the ache in the back of my head but find myself unable to lift my hands at all. 

I look down and see rope wrapped around my wrists holding me to the chair I’ve been placed in. I twist my arms, panic creeping up my spine and overwhelming my senses.

“Wha… what happened?” I barely make out a whisper. My throat is dry and hoarse, undoubtedly from screaming. “Please, let me go,” I look to the man standing closest. He looks to be about the same age as me. Skinny and short, no taller than I was. He smiles a wide grin that shows just how many teeth he doesn’t have and lets out a horrid laugh. My stomach drops, fearing that my fate has already been sealed long before I woke. 

“Hello darling,” a slimy hand pulls my face towards that voice. Suddenly, I see flashes of red but it’s not blood I’m seeing. It’s pure hatred, pure anger. My face starts to scrunch up, recognizing the face from the bounty posters I’d seen in the past. The man in front of me stood tall and lean with stringy grey hair. His skin was weathered from the sun and had a gritty beard that peppered his face. I knew exactly who this man was.

“Colm,” his name felt like venom on my lips. A broad smile stretched across his chapped lips. 

“At your service, ma’am,” he placed one hand as his waist and gave a gentle bow, mocking my status. 

I jerked at the rope that was biting at my wrists, pulling with all I had in me as I was suddenly filled with violent rage. I banged my feet on the floor, yanking my arms, thrashing and pulling. A wild, animalistic scream rose from deep in my chest, emerging out into a ghastly roar. Tears pushed their way forward and spilled over the brim and down my cheeks. My disheveled hair fell wildly out of the braided bun I had put it into before I went to bed. 

“You fucking bastard, I will kill every last one of you!” One of the men came up behind me and placed a bandana around my face and through my mouth, preventing me from screaming. At this point, I’m not sure how much more screaming I could do, my body was exhausted. 

“Ah don’t look so sad darlin’, you’re goin’ someplace real nice,” Colm looked back at two men and gave them a nod before turning on his heel and walking away. I felt exposed, being left for a pack of hungry wolves with no way to defend myself. 

My sobs grew quieter, the bandana making it hard to breathe. I’m sure my father would’ve loved to scold me for my behavior right now.  _ Ladies don’t act like this, emotions aren’t to be shown like this with guests Emma! _ But these guests broke into my home and took everyone I loved away from me. The thought of my father only broke my heart more. I looked back to my left at the staircase that lead upstairs. Up to where Griffin’s body surely still laid. 

I closed my eyes, willing my mind to forget the sight of his face when the bullets tore through him. But I can’t stop the images of a river of red flowing, drowning me beneath it. I would’ve gladly taken those bullets for him.  _ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid man.  _

Nothing could stop the empty feeling that has taken over my entire body. What once was a lively woman is now slowly reducing into nothing. The range of emotions that keep washing over me, sadness, anger, followed by fear, I couldn’t keep up with the confusion of the entire situation. I kept coming back to the question of  _ why _ ?

The day passed into night as I watched the sun pass down over the fields through the window. My arms and legs were sore from being immobilized for so long. I heard a group of the men ride away, sounded like quite a few. Something about heading back to a base camp, I didn’t catch everything they said. At one point, one of the men had taken out the bandana to let me eat something and give me a little water. I had asked him for a chance to stretch my limbs, just for a moment to allow the cramping to subside. 

He was a nice enough man, said his name was Kieran. His eyes were soft and he treated me decent. He wasn’t much like the other men. He was gentle and kind, tended to my wrists with care and did what he could for me. At one point, he came over with some tonic, a bucket of water, and a small cloth, nervously mumbling about cleaning my wrists to avoid catching a fever. 

“Why are you with these boys Kieran? You’re a nice enough man,” I smiled softly, taking a look around to take note of who would be listening. 

“Oh, it wasn’t much of a choice ma’am. Yo- you see, I had, uh well..” he shuffled over his words, trying to decide how to explain it. 

“It’s ok, I think I understand,” I nodded and cleared my throat. I gave him a small smile in an attempt to show him that I really did understand what he meant. He didn’t look like any outlaw I’d ever seen. He sure didn’t act like one, although I’d never really had much experience with any  _ real _ outlaws other than in stories or books. 

He may be an outlaw simply because he had no choice, the same way I was a businessman’s daughter. All those days I spend wishing I could be Black Belle or Annie Oakley and the first encounter I have with any outlaws, they destroy my entire life. Maybe my father was right. If I had spent more time studying how to be a proper lady, Griffin would still be alive. The thought of Griffin brought fresh tears to my eyes. I blinked them away quickly, focusing on my task at hand. 

“Kieran, can you help me? I have money, I can give you money if you’d plea-” I begged.

“Now, I, I, now can’t be doing that,” he stuttered, abruptly dropping the cloth he had been using to clean my wrist into the bucket of water. He glanced over his shoulder, watching for listening ears. 

A few men glanced over in our direction, not taking much interest in our conversation as their whiskey was far too important to be interrupted. 

“Kieran, I’m begging you. I have cash, gold. Whatever you want,” I could feel those damn tears stinging my eyes again. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” he gathered the items and quickly got to his feet, leaving me to sit there and contemplate how I was going to get myself out of here. 

______________________________________________________

  
  
Arthur and Hosea had arranged to meet back with Mr. Young regarding their business proposition for him to invest in their real estate scam. Charles had come along this time as extra security, further providing legitimacy for theatrics. Hosea really did have quite the knack for acting. In another life, he very well could’ve been a performer or maybe even a politician. Arthur on the other hand had no real desire of theatrical performances. It was better that he kept to himself and stay quiet in an attempt not to say anything foolish. 

He rode quietly next to Charles and Hosea through a grassy area, scoping the Blackwood Estate they had previously visited. His mare, Boadicea, trotted along peacefully, hooves thumping loudly into the dead grass below them. Her golden coat sparkled in the sun, white maine blowing swiftly with the breeze that blew up the hill towards the three men. 

“Hold up here and let’s take a look before we ride in,” Hosea pulled Silver Dollar to a halt next to a large patch of brush, pulling his binoculars from his satchel and raising them to take a look around. Arthur pulled up alongside him, resting on arm on the horn of his saddle while he pat Boadicea gently on the neck. 

“There girl, won’t be long,” Arthur soothed her as she stomped her feet, impatient to keep moving. 

Charles pulled his horse to the left of Arthur, close enough that their knees almost brushed. “What are you thinking about all this?” Charles nodded towards the house off in the distance. 

“Hosea seems to think there’s money in this so I trust it. Seems to be a bit safer than whatever Dutch is cooking up in town. Something about that ferry job just doesn't seem right to me.” He listed his hat, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“I was down at the docks earlier this week scoping the place out. Overheard some of the workers talking about it. Seems like security is going to be pretty tight down there once the ferry arrives. I heard one of them say-” Charles was cut short. 

“Damn, looks like we were a hair too late,” Hosea interrupted the two as he handed Arthur the binoculars, nodding his head towards the house. He let out a frustrated sigh and held them up, trying to get a closer look at the current occupants. 

“O’Driscolls…” Arthur grumbled. He scanned left, looking for anyone recognizable. “I don’t see Colm though. Still we should let Dutch know.” 

As he scanned back to the right, he stopped, noticing two men struggling with someone. Looked like a woman they were dragging out of the house. Something familiar about her, he just couldn’t place it. 

“Hosea, you might want to have a look at this,” Arthur handed the binoculars back to Hosea, pointing towards the main house. He raised them, looking towards the commotion. A woman in a stained chemise was being dragged out of the house towards a wagon by two men.

“Maybe we ‘otta help the lady,” Hosea said, storing the binoculars and getting his cattleman out from his side. He looks at the men on their horses and lets out a long sigh, “well, shall we?” 

______________________________________________________

  
  
  


Boots shuffled across the floor, hollow footsteps filling the sound of laughter and bottles rattling together from the men that have taken residence in the empty shell of my home. None of these faces are familiar to me and all seem to change every day I’m held here. What once was a neat and tidy house is now littered with bottles and empty cans of food, scattered around like every plot I’d come up with for escaping this place. 

They moved me to a small spot on the floor in what was once my father's office. His desk, ordinarily well organized and meticulously kept, now ripped apart with papers, scattered in every which direction. Various papers lay at my feet with ink from my father’s hand that had only dried five days ago. 

My babysitter kicked his feet up on the desk, dropping bits of dirt and debris from the underside of his worn boots. I couldn’t tell his age, his time outside had taken its toll on him like the fisherman in blackwater looking well into my father’s years while being only slightly past mine. His eyes wrinkled around the edges, worn from laughter. It was hard to imagine men that were capable of such violence were also capable of enough joy to cause lines like that. 

I examined his figure, noting his porkish belly and jutting jowls. I felt the corner of my lip curl uncomfortably as I looked at his hands, seeing the purple and blue hues that laid next to permanent scars, resting like little dots of braille on his knuckles. Occupational hazard I assume. I imagined what someone would have to do to get that many scars. 

I studied him further, watching him as he opened a can of pears and brought it to his lips. The sharp edge resting dangerously close to his skin. A small drop of juice slipped from the corner of his mouth and ran down the side of his jaw. I shivered with disgust, watching this slimy man in front of me devour the peaches from his can. Despite my disgust, my stomach betrayed me and growled loud enough I’m sure the men outside could hear it. 

The last time they fed me was yesterday and it hadn’t gone well for them. The bowl they brought was supposedly containing a meat stew of some kind. I threw it in the fat man’s face, causing him to give me what I’m sure is a necklace of bruises from choking me to the point of passing out. When I came to, I regretted not taking the food. Now that I’m watching him eat, I am  _ really  _ regretting it. 

My stomach gurgled again, despite my protest for it to shut up. The man looked over at me, smiling and wiping his mouth with the back of his dirty sleeve. 

“Bet you wish you’d eaten that stew, huh _princess_?” the last word slid out of his mouth like he was flirting with the devil as he laughed and kicked his feet off the desk. He stood up, wiping his hands off on his jeans and walked over to where I was sitting. 

“Do you  _ want _ something to eat?” He held the can out to me, shaking it in the air to taunt me. I could hear the juice slosh around in the can which only fueled the deep ache in my stomach. 

I gulped, narrowing my eyes at his challenge. The corner of his mouth curled up under his dirty moustache and I watched him pour what was left of the can on the floor in front of me. My heart sank, knowing that could be the last bit of food I’d see for the foreseeable future. My eyes never left his, never letting go of the challenge he presented me with. He laughed and took his seat back at the desk, tossing the now empty can at my feet while he hummed a familiar tune.

The doors to the office swung open, crashing against the frame. Two men walked in, one being Kieran, the other, a taller man carrying a carbine. The tall man scowled at my babysitter and nodded in my direction.

“Time to go princess,” the taller man said. Kieran quickly came to my side and started to untie my arms, giving me an opportunity to soothe my aching wrists. I ran my hands softly over each wrist, stroking the rough bumps that now lined each wrist. Although it didn’t matter at this point, I wondered if they would leave a scar. 

“Where are we going?” I looked to the tall man with the gun. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know sweet thing?” he turned around and walked towards me and Kieran, boots scraping against the wooden floor boards. I took a deep breath in, puffing my chest out and lifting my head to meet his gaze. Something my mother had taught me when entering a room full of people to make you look taller and more confident. 

“You are going to be the personal guest of Mr. Colm O’Driscoll,” he licked his lips, eyes looking down at my chest. 

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, suddenly feeling very small and exposed. 

“But why? There must be a reason he wants me? Why kill everyone just to get to me?” I look the man square in the eye, not lowering my gaze at all. He stands close enough to smell, sweat and musk combined with days worth of cigarettes fill the air around me.

“You want to know why we killed everyone, Princess? Plain and simple…. why not?” he grins a sinister smile and laughs, looking to Kieran. A chill ran down my spine, laying goosebumps in its wake. “Take her outside.” 

I was led outside to the courtyard although it was almost unrecognizable.Trash and wooden boxes were everywhere and amongst them were bodies carelessly thrown about. I gasped when I saw the stable hands laying next to my brothers mare, her chestnut mane stained with blood. He must have been trying to flee but was killed before he had the chance. The poor bastard.

My feet skidded and slipped in the mud as the man dragged me behind him. My hands tied in front of me, I was unable to keep my balance and fell flat onto my front. Mud sprayed over my face and chest, splashing over the man’s boots. He looked down at me, furious that I could’ve caused such a mess. I glared up at him, spitting out a crunchy wad of mud. That only angered him further. He yanked me up by my hair, pulling me up to face him. Just as he pulled his hand back to strike me, shouting came from the front of the house. 

“You’re lucky this time,” he snarled. He forcefully led me to round the corner to a small wagon with some provisions and a few crates in the back. Apollo and one of my fathers mares were tied to the back of the carriage. Apollo’s head tossed up and down, anxious about strangers handling him. Apollo looked like he had a welt or two on his hind end, raw from a whip. The grip around my arm roughly shoved me up into the wagon as I settled myself into the back, settling myself between a crate of ammo and a box filled with various cans of provisions. 

The O’Driscoll’s mounted up and pulled away from the house that had once been my home, leaving the blood to rot in the dust trail we left behind us. I wiped a tear that managed to escape past the brim of my eye while pulling my legs in closer. Apollo pushed his head into the back of the wagon, his whiskers tickling at my arm. I scratched him on the nose as we turned the corner and the final view of the house went out of my sight. 

The trail we took was relatively smooth, I was able to drift off to a short nap as the men joked between themselves, laughing about whatever nonsense they found amusing. They laughed and sang the tune of Dixie, I even caught myself humming along. Finally, we stopped at a campsite and met up with another small group of men. Tents were pitched and a fire started. I was led to a tree where I could be tied and watched. They ignored me for the most part, and I was thankful for that. It gave me time to think. 

_ Think about my escape.  _

_ My revenge.  _

_ How to rain hell down on earth for what they did to me.  _

I listened to the fire crackle and pop, water from the wood escaping in little sizzling streams. It was far enough away where it would provide just enough warmth to keep me from shivering completely, but not enough to let me sleep. I curled my knees to my chest, pulling my body heat as close to my chest as I could. I watched the men, talking and laughing like they hadn’t just killed an entire estate full of people a mere week ago. 

They drank, slowly starting to get drunk and drifting off to sleep one by one. I let myself close my eyes, resting my head back against a tree while listening to every sound that surrounded me. I heard the leaves crackle under the horses feet, a twig fall off a tree, bottles clinking from the cart as someone grabs a new whiskey bottle. Voices breaking through all of the noise around us, 

“What about this fine lady we have with us? Who says we can’t  _ taste _ the merchandise?” my babysitter from the house says to the group, his voice breathy and making my hairs stand on end. My eyes snapped open. 

“You know better than that boy’o, don’t even think about it. You know Colm will have you balls for it if you do,” some of the others laugh at the thought. 

“Who says he has to know?” the first man stumbled casually over towards me, casting a shadow from the fire. 

“What do you say woman?” he nodded his head towards me, resting his hands on his gun belt. 

“In your dreams cowboy,” I hock a wad of spit at his boots, snarling a disgusted look towards him. 

To this, he just laughed before a devilish look came over his face, sending a rock plummeting to the bottom of the lake in my stomach. He lunged forward, grabbing my face hard enough to bruise and lifting me to my feet. I squirmed back, pushing my hands against him as he mashed me between himself and the tree that scraped against the thin fabric I wore. 

He leaned in close enough that you could smell the fresh tobacco mixed with rancid sweat from the ride. I watched a drop of sweat falling down his brow, between his eyebrows, and down the side of his nose. I turned my head away, holding my breath. The corner of his mouth twitched, making me withdraw myself even further. Everything in my head was telling me  _ run.  _ But I knew that I'd end up on the other side of a gun if I even tried. 

“You watch yourself there princess, maybe one of these days I’ll actually take you up on that offer,” he pushed his nose into my hair and took a deep breath in, planting a nasty wet kiss on the side of my face before letting go and walking back to his friends around the fire. 

I sank to the ground, letting my legs curl up beneath me. I felt my stomach contract in an attempt to return anything I’d put down in the last 12 hours which unfortunately, was nothing. A tear slipped down one cheek and I quickly wiped it away with my sleeve. A small shiver ran over my arms, the temperature dropping with the sun. Kieran came over with a blanket of sorts, handing it to me along with a can of peaches. 

“I know i… it’s… it’s not much miss, bu..but it’s bound to get cold out here. It’s one of the stable blankets from the barn at the house,” he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders as I unfolded it, revealing a wool stable blanket. 

“Thank you Kieran, this will be nice tonight. And the peaches are perfect. Thank you,” I smiled, my voice soft as I opened the can, taking the fork he handed me and spearing one of the peaches and taking a bite out of the fruit. I carefully chewed, savoring the sweet flavor of the peach. I closed my eyes, taking another bite. My stomach rumbled, having not eaten since yesterday. 

“Your horse looks good miss. Mustang is he?” he nodded his head over to where Apollo was hitched to the wagon. 

“Apollo, and yeah, he’s a mustang as far as we know. Big for a mustang though but he’s level headed and sure footed. I trust that horse with my life,” I smile, watching his head bob as his switches the weight on his back legs as he rests. 

“He’s got a good build, that’s for sure. You can tell he’s been taken great care of,” Kieran smiles and takes a seat beside me. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” I stabbed another peach and took a heaping bite out of it. 

“Kieran, how long have you been with these guys?” I asked. 

“Oh only a couple months,” he drew circles in the dirt with a stick next to me. 

“Don’t want to leave? Go somewhere else? Do anything else?” I take a sip of the juice from the can. 

“Oh of course I do miss, but like I said before, I didn’t really have much of a choice with the O’Driscoll’s. I had some troubles, and it was either die or join. And you can see which choice I picked. I guess I didn’t do my parents proud, but my ma, she would’ve just liked to know that I made it.” He looked up, staring at the sky. He took a long deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“What happened to your mother?” I sat back against the tree, pulling the blanket around me tighter. He paused, pulling his lips into a tight line before answering.

“She and my pa came here to farm in California but they died of cholera when I was just a kid. I ended up working in some stables which is where I learned all I know about them horses,” He nodded towards Apollo. A long silence fell between us before I finally spoke.

“I’m sorry to hear about your parents Kieran. I’m sure they would think you’re a fine man. You’ve been the best to me through all of this so far. And you never killed anyone as far as I can tell. You weren’t given a choice to be here really,” I ducked my head down to his. I looked him in the eye, “You’re a good man Kieran, your mother would’ve been proud.” 

“Ehh I don’t know about proud,” he chuckled. “They raised me better than this. I’d like to think I’m doing the best with what I got but proud? Nah, I don’t think they would be.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry. For, you know, for what they did to you and your family,” he didn’t look at me, speaking almost in a whisper. 

“I am too. My father wasn’t a nice man but he didn’t deserve to die like that. And Griffin, he…” the words caught in my throat like a hot coal. I shook my head, wiping a tear from my eye. 

“Do you have any other family? Anywhere else you could go?” Kieran asked. 

“I have an aunt in Boston, my mother’s sister. I haven’t seen her since she died so I’m not sure if she would be so welcoming,” I paused, thinking back to the vague memories I had of Boston. “This has always been my home… I’m not sure where else I’d go. That would be if I could get away from your buddies.”

“You’ll figure it out Emma.” He smiled at me, nodding his head before standing up, brushing off the dirt on his pants. He kept his eyes on mine, the fire cracking in the background, illuminating his figure. He gave a soft smile, shook his head as if to break the connection. “Have a good night Miss,” and with that, he turned on his heel and went to his sleeping bag and laid down for the night.

I watched the last of the men fall asleep and I listened to the sounds of soft snores, echoing in the camp around me. The fire crackled, logs still burning hot and bright. One man coughed, a horse snorted, another man yawned. The sounds of the trees started to overtake those in the camp. Once I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I finally let my eyes close for the evening, drifting myself off into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

___________

I woke to the sun shining down over me, warming my limbs back to life. Birds chirping quietly as a soft breeze blew through the trees around us, carrying the smell of pine and grass with it. I listened closely, taking in more of my surroundings. In the distance I could hear the sound of the Montana River, splashing around some rocks. An eagle calling out over the mountains. Rustling in the leaves somewhere from a fox or possibly a coyote.

I stretched my legs out, hearing them crack slightly from being curled in tight all night. My back was sore, punishment from my accommodations in the last week. A small groan escaped me when I arched my back, stretching out the stiff muscles from the night. 

Most of the men were still asleep. I could hear a few grumbles and snores. Someone had been up, brewing a fresh pot of coffee and some kind of cooked oats, the smell being carried over from a fresh fire that had been made this morning. Kieran was awake, already tending to the horses. 

I watched as each man rose, waking with the new day. They laughed over their breakfast, joking as they packed their belongings. I watched my babysitter closely, his eyes scanning my body viciously. God, it was too early to deal with this shit. Haven’t I dealt with enough already? He watched me through the steam rising from his coffee, making me want to crawl right out from my skin. 

Kieran tended to the horses, feeding and watering each of them including Apollo and my fathers mare. His hands were gentle as he applied some kind of ointment to the horses sores and scrapes. I appreciated everything he was doing, despite the circumstances we found ourselves in. 

“Billy! I’m takin’ her up to see Colm later today. I’ll need to take that shitbrain Kieran with me. He ain’t good for much but Colm wants him up there to tend to a new group of horses he just got from that ranch he’s holed up in,” my babysitter licked his lips and wiped the breakfast that always seemed to drip off his face. He stood, throwing his plate to the ground by the fire. 

“I’ll need someone to come with me just so they don’t get any funny ideas,” he nodded to his friend. 

“Sure thing, but let me finish my breakfast first. I just woke up and I nee-” he never finished his sentence before the shot rang out. 

We didn’t hear them coming, which I expect was the point. One minute things were peaceful and the next, bullets were flying around me, spraying blood and splintered wood. I held my hands over my ears, covering myself from the noise of men dying. This was revenge but not the revenge I wanted. 

A hand rested on my shoulder and my head whipped around, eyes full of fear. Kieran stood over me with a knife in his hands. For a moment, I was afraid of him, scared he was there to kill me until I noticed his hands shaking as much as mine were. I could see the whites of his eyes, bulging in fear as he knelt down and slipped the knife between my hands cutting the rope around my wrists. 

“You have to go now. This is the only chance you’ll have. I packed Apollo’s saddlebag last night with a few provisions… it’s not much but it’s..” he trailed off. I put my hand over his, my cold trembling fingers wrapping over the top of his. 

“Thank you Kieran. I don’t think I can ever repay you but one day, I hope I can,” he pulled me to my feet and I reached up to his face, placing my hand on the side and kissing his cheek. A vibrant red blush crept up his neck, turning his cheeks and ears bright red. 

I scrambled to get over to Apollo, leaping between the trees to avoid getting shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Mr. Callahan and his colleague, Marvin or somethin’ rather. My head whipped around, staring at the two men who once stood in my parlor. My feet were cemented to the ground, completely unable to move. Kieran shoved me from behind in the direction of the horses, “miss, come on you need to go!” he practically threw me into the saddle and handed me the knife he had cut my ties with. 

“Ride east to San Denis, get on a boat and get yourself back to whatever family you have left. Ride hard fast and don’t you look back now,” he nodded at me before giving Apollo a strong smack on the rump and we took off into the trees. Stray bullets flew around us, splintering through the trees. I maneuvered Apollo through the maze of trees that surrounded us. As we turned a corner to avoid a small cluster of trees, a bullet grazed my arm tearing a nice gash through my skin. I cried out, looking at the blood dripping from the wound but relentlessly, we pushed on. 

Branches slapped me in the face, tearing at the fabric that now clung around my panic dampened skin. I ducked my head, clinging to his black mane for dear life, the sharp sting from the bullet reminding me what was behind us. We made our way into a clearing, and I let him loose. His legs shot out from underneath me, pushing as fast as he could. 

Either the gunshots stopped or we had galloped far enough away that we couldn’t hear them anymore. I pulled Apollo up to a walk and leaned over onto his neck, tears slowly breaking over the dam and streaming through the dirt, leaving fresh trails down my cheeks. I ran my hands through his mane, inhaling the smell of pine and smoke mixed with gunpowder and blood. 

It made me sick. I slid off him into the dry grass beneath us and sank to my knees, unable to see from the tears now pouring from my eyes. I couldn’t hear anything but my own screams and sobs being carried away in the wind. Apollo stood over me, watching as I sat there for however long, letting everything from the last few days pour out of me. I felt so alone and lost in the world with no way of knowing where to go. 

As soon as my tears would dry, I would feel my soul break all over again. Break for my father and brother, for for all of those back home who deserved more than what they got, for poor Kieran who would probably be dead now for helping me. All of those people, innocent lives that were taken for nothing more than to get to me. 

I ran the back of my hand across my nose and looked up at Apollo who was munching at the dry grass around me. He would occasionally look up, glancing around at a noise being carried with the wind. It wasn’t until I heard hooves trotting up to us that I leapt up to see who would be coming for me. 

That’s when I saw him. Arthur Callahan. He had followed my tracks somehow and found me. This could be a chance to get some answers but also, could be a trap. In a split second decision, I jumped into the saddle and turned Apollo around so quickly it startled some nearby birds resting in a tree. We took off, Arthur calling out behind us, 

“Ma’am, wait! Please, I didn’t mean, ah shit…” his words faded into the thundering hooves beneath me. 

Apollo ran as fast as his legs would take him. But it was no match for Arthur’s horse who caught up quickly behind us. The cremello ran right up alongside us, Arthur looking over at me, “ma’am, please..”

He pulled his mare in front of us, slightly cutting us off and forcing me to pull back the reins and slow our pace. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just...” Arthur trailed off. He looked me over, his eyes softening. I let out a shaky breath, preparing myself for a quick escape but a second set of hooves cantered up after and an appaloosa with a darker skinned man approached us. The man was quiet, had longer dark hair and broad shoulders. He wore a darker blue shirt that had been covered in dirt, possibly from wrestling with someone back at the camp. 

He looked to have Native blood in him, from what tribe I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t as keen to spotting tribes outside of my studies. He didn’t look like any Native I’d imagined. He read the situation quietly, observing my blood soaked attire before speaking.

“You’re bleeding,” the man nodded to my arm. I watched Arthur’s eyes glance down. It would’ve been easy to miss, considering I’m still wearing the same chemise that was blood stained from the house. The man walked his horse past us and got off, starting to set up a small camp on a clear spot in the dirt. I shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable about spending another night with two men I didn’t know. 

Arthur turned to me, sensing my uneasiness, “at least let Charles get that cleaned up for you before you ride off like that. You’re welcome to share our camp while you figure out where you’re headed.” He swung his leg over his mare and hitched her next to the appaloosa. I climbed down off of Apollo, tying his rains up so he wouldn’t step on anything while he grazed. I grabbed the knife Kieran had given me, putting it into my boot as a safeguard. 

“Why are y’all helpin’ me anyhow?” I removed my bedroll and put it on the opposite side of the camp from the men. Charles motioned for me to sit down which I graciously did. 

“No woman should be treated like that by any man…” Charles lifted my sleeve cautiously, waiting for me to protest. I nodded my head to him allowing him to continue his inspection. He twisted my arm around in the fading light and opened a small bottle of tonic. 

“This is gonna sting a little,” he held the bottle up. 

“Just get it done,” I looked away to the fire that Arthur had going, now lit to a decent size. He had spiered some meat onto his knife, turning it back and forth over the fire as it cooked.  The tonic ran over my wound, instantly feeling like I’d been torn into all over again. I let out a yelp and jumped away from him, but his rough hand held a firm grip around my arm and steadily cleaned the wound, wiping any drops of blood and dirt from the area. I watched him as he spread some kind of herbs over the wound and wrapped it in cloth. 

“Change it out in three days, but you should be fine. You’re lucky, this was just a graze. Could’ve been a lot worse,” he stood up, handing me a small jar with the herbs he had used. 

“Thank you,” I gave a small smile and tucked the jar into a small satchel Kieran had given me. 

Arthur handed me a small plate with some meat on it and took gave the same to Charles, feeding himself last. I tried to eat slow but this had been the first meal of substance I’d had in some days. I devoured it almost instantly, my stomach grumbling with thanks. 

Arthur watched me, studying the way I treated the food and reacted to the canteen of water I so desperately needed. My lips were chapped and hadn’t felt clean water in days. The only thing that would be better would be a warm bath. Possibly I could find somewhere in the river to bathe if I could find some clothes to change into. 

My eyes grew heavy as I watched the fire. The men didn’t talk much, they just kept to themselves which I didn’t mind. Arthur had set up his bedroll not too far away from me but had also given me some distance. I laid my head down on my makeshift pillow, crawling under the warm blanket Kieran thankfully packed for me. I was so thankful for that boy. He’d done so much for me without knowing me. I sent up a silent prayer that he was able to make it out of there and with that, fell asleep wondering just what in the hell I was supposed to do now.


	3. Prologue - Blackwater III - Well Now What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes sir, that’s where I was,” I cleared my throat, wiping my hand over my cheek roughly. 
> 
> “Well, you’re welcome to stay in our camp for as long as you’d like but keep in mind, everyone pulls their own weight around here. Ms. Grimshaw will have work for you with the other girls that I’m sure you’re able to help with. Your first seven days are for you to decide if you want to stay or if you want to go but just know that we are just honest folk just trying to get by.”
> 
> “I really do appreciate you giving me a place to be Mr…” I realized I didn’t know his full name. 
> 
> “Ah Mr. Van Der Linde, but no need for such formalities, you can call me Dutch.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, standing up and leading me to the entrance of his tent. 
> 
> “I’ll have my answer for you within the week Mr. Van Der Linde,” I smiled and nodded, wondering what the next seven days had in store for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who gave me feedback/kudos and who commented! It means a whole heck of a lot that people have been enjoying this. 
> 
> Here's the 3rd update for WFGH. Wanted to give a HUGE shoutout to cloudsarefluffy who is writing ACW - they've given me so much support and amazing advice on slow burns and fic writing so sorry if you weren't in it for super slow burns because that's what you're getting lol. 
> 
> Also, there's more notes at the bottom and I loved what cloudsarefluffy did with giving you the music they listened to so I've also left a link to the music I listened to while writing this. Hope you enjoy!

The next morning I woke to the smell of burnt coffee and meat cooking over the fire. The sun painted its warm rays over my skin, thawing my limbs one by one as I stretched each of them out from beneath my blanket. I groaned, feeling the stiffness from yet another night spent on the ground. My body was not used to sleeping out like this for this long, only a day or two when I’d go hunting. 

Arthur poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me along with a plate of the meat. I sipped the bitter drink, feeling it’s warmth deep into my chest. The meat was tough and stringy, overcooked and plain but still edible. I wonder if these men even know how to cook anything other than game over a fire. It was Arthur who spoke up first, interrupting the comfortable silence we all sat in. 

“Where do you plan to go?” Arthur speared his breakfast with his knife off his plate and took a large bite, chewing loudly. I opened my mouth to respond and closed it again, realizing I didn’t have the slightest idea. I shook my head slowly and shrugged one shoulder, sighing softly while trying to hold back fresh tears that were blurring my vision. I bit the inside of my cheek to distract myself and focused back to the meat on my plate, turning it over slowly while pondering the question.

Charles spoke up, his deep voice speaking calmly to Arthur, “She can stay with us for a few days until she figures out what she wants to do. Dutch can’t say anything since he basically picked up Jenny the same way,” he skillfully tied an improved tip to his arrow, testing out the point as he talked. 

Arthur’s brows scrunched together, his eyes hiding underneath the brim of his hat. We sat there in silence, waiting on Arthur’s answer. My eyes darted back and forth between the men, waiting on an answer. Finally, he spoke, “well, I suppose so. If you’d like to that is.” He looked up at me from under his hat without moving his head, mouth half open as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. 

I swallowed hard, thinking about my other potential options. Kieran had told me to run but I wanted to try to go back to the house and bury my brother before I did. I didn’t know if that would even be possible but maybe this way, I could have some help. I couldn’t stand the thought of him lying there, cold and lifeless in the same spot where he was shot down in front of me. 

I gathered my thoughts and weighed the pros and cons to staying with them. The chance of steady food would be nice. And I’m sure they would have shelter. It would definitely give me time to get some money and figure out my next move. But moving into a full camp with men who just shot up a camp of O’Driscolls? That seemed dangerous. Although they do know how to handle themselves. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“I think that would be nice. Thank you Mr. Callahan,” my lips formed a slight smile. The corner of his lip curled upwards into a smirk. He gave a nod of approval and shoved the last bite of his breakfast into his mouth before speaking. We sat there in silence for the remainder of our breakfasts. 

“Well, we should probably ride out then,” Arthur stood up, brushing his jeans off with his hands before he started to pack up his bedroll. 

The three of us packed up the camp quickly and snuffed out the fire, leaving little evidence of our existence there. Arthur led the way while Charles followed behind me. Charles generously gave me an extra shirt that would cover over my chemise to give me a little decency when riding into this camp of theirs. 

Apollo happily trotted along behind the cremello, paying no attention to where we were going as long as we were going where she was. He would reach his nose out, desperate to touch her. Arthur’s horse, who’s name I learned was Boadicea, was not very fond of this. Her ears lay flat against her head in warning of a kick that was bound to land square on Apollo’s nose if he wasn’t careful. I tried to warn him but sometimes, there was no telling him anything. Stubborn mustangs. 

___________

We came to a small worn down path and slowed our horses to a walk, the three of them happily moving in sync. Dust blew slightly around us from their hooves tossing the earth beneath them as I followed behind Arthur. He led me towards a hitching post that had a water trough for horses underneath it. Apollo lunged for the clean water, drinking a large helping. His ears twitched with every gulp - a habit he had always had since he was young.

Arthur tied his mare up on a hitching post next to the one I pulled up to while Charles let his horse roam in a small grass area near the camp with a group of other horses. This place looked peaceful. Tents were pitched around a common area, wagons used for makeshift lean-to’s. The cook set up rather nicely with a butchers block and prep area. I could smell the aroma of a stew bubbling over the fire. Laughter could be heard from somewhere around the wagons. This camp was indeed full of life and warmth, but I had yet to determine if it was full of friends or foes. 

I swung my leg over the saddle and landed with a thud, both feet firmly on the ground. I removed Apollo’s tack and tied him with some hay to eat. I looked over his dull coat and knotted tail thinking about what we’ve seen in our time together. Nothing seemed as bad as the last week but Apollo was starting to show the signs of our struggles. I ran my fingers through his coat, curling them into his mane. The tangled hair caught between my fingers as I tried to comb out the mud that was stuck in it. 

I silently promised him a bath and a proper grooming once I found myself a bath first and a proper set of clothes. He nudged me, stuffing his nose into my chest and wiggling it around in a playful way. I giggled, his ticklish nose hairs brushing against my skin. Giving him one final pat, I turned and walked with Arthur to face the camp and its inhabitants. 

“Mr Callahan, I wanted to-” 

“You can call me Arthur, Miss,” he interrupted. I paused before continuing. 

“Ok, well Arthur, I wanted to thank you for helping me and giving me a place to stay while I figure out where I’m headed.” I didn’t look at him as we walked together into the camp. 

“It’s the least I could do. Seems like you were in a tight spot back there with those O’Driscolls.”

I bit my lip, nodding as we walked in silence. I could feel eyes on me, likely because of my attire. 

Arthur turned on his heel and stopped abruptly to look at me. 

“When I go up to Dutch, you are to say nothin’, do nothin’, and look at nothin’, you hear me?” he rested one hand on the revolver that rested on his hip and the other off his belt loop. I shook my head, processing what he was saying. He nodded his head and gave a grunt from his nose and turned back towards the camp, stopping at a larger tent in the middle of the camp.

There was music flowing from the tent from a phonograph, a familiar song from my childhood. I could hear the words my mother would sing in French to me when she would cut my hair on our porch.  _ Jasmin blanc et roses enlacés ensemble… _ I closed my eyes and strained my ear to listen more. My heart squeezed with the memory of her and my hand reached for my chest, gripping onto my shirt. The song’s words are cut by the voice of a man. 

“Dutch, a word?” Arthur walked up to the tent and motioned for me to stay put behind him, tossing his lit cigarette under his boot and stomping it into the wet grass. The man I assumed was Dutch sat on a chair, feet propped up on a crate with a book in his hand. He wore a stylish look, something I could see my father wearing. Black was always a good color on him. His moustache was full with the edges extending down over the corners of his lips and a small patch rested under his bottom lip. His deep and husky voice boomed out of his chest, projecting in a way that made everything and everyone feel so small around him. 

“Sure son, what is it you need,” he pulled his feet down from the crate and stood up while he closed his book to give his full attention to Arthur. 

“This is… uh,” Arthur paused, realizing he didn’t know my name. He looked back at me with a questioning look. I stepped around Arthur to give Dutch my name. When I got a look at the man I felt a familiarity in his features. Something about his eyes reminded me of something I’d seen recently but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe I was just reading too much into it. 

“Emma, sir. Emma Young.” my voice came out in barely a whisper. I was ashamed of that voice that squeaked out. This girl I’d become, what once was strong and powerful, ready to take on anything, was now too scared to say her own name. 

“Emma’s family was the one up at that house you sent Hosea and me to. Ain’t no one left Dutch,” Arthur looked back at me, nodding for me to join him at his side. I stepped up closer to Arthur, still slightly behind him. 

“And I suppose that means she needs a place to stay, is that correct Miss Young?” Dutch crossed his arms. 

“Ye...yes sir. Just until I can figure out my next step. I’ll put my own weight, I ain’t useless by any account, but I just… they killed everyone I love,” tears start to pour down my face as I choke on a burning fireball in the back of my throat. 

“Arthur, why don’t you go get Miss Young set up in that spot over by the ammunition wagon and talk to Miss Grimshaw about getting some clothes for her as well.” The men nodded to each other and Arthur turned me and pulled me away by the arm to get my tent set up. I stood by and watched as he set up a tent next to the ammunition wagon. Once inside the tent, he set up a rather nice cot, a small table from two whiskey crates, and a chair from a small oak barrel. A lantern rested inside on the table, ready to illuminate the tent in the evening.

“Miss Grimshaw can be a prickly old bat, but don’t let that scare you away. Just give what you take with her and you’ll be fine. The other girls are nice, they’ll help you. If you need anything, go to Karen, Mary-Beth, or Abigail. Otherwise, this is your spot. Miss Grimshaw will be along shortly to get you a wash and some clothes.” Arthur stood in the tent next to me close enough to touch. So close that I could smell the tobacco faintly from his clothes. 

An awkwardness settled between us. I looked down at my torn boots, lightly turning it over a few rocks that lay in the dry dirt next to the cot. His spurs rattled slightly as he shifted his weight from one side to the other. 

“Well, I should probably leave you too it then,” Arthur nodded and turned towards the door. 

“Wait, Arthur… I,” he paused at my hesitation. “I wanted to say thank you. You didn’t have to offer me a spot in your camp but I’m real thankful for the kindness.”

He hummed an acknowledgement and tipped the brim of his hat. 

“Just doin’ what I can to help Miss,” he nodded again and left me standing alone in my tent. 

Miss Grimshaw wasn’t quite as bad as Arthur had described her. Sure, she was set in her ways but I figure if you’re on her good side, she wouldn’t be a problem. She had dragged a wash basin into my tent, allowing me to take a very short sponge bath. The water had been warmed from the fire but like any good sponge bath, it cools down quickly. 

I rinsed the blood and mud from my hair and scrubbed under my nails, finally restoring some level of peace to myself. I looked down at the murky water. Even though I’d washed away the blood, would I ever truly be clean? Would my soul be clean for what happened to Griffin and my father? Feeling frustrated, I stood up, and poured the final rinse bucket over me, shivering from the cool water as it splashed over my naked body. I inhaled sharply, goosebumps rising quickly and tightening my pale skin. During the warmer months, this water feels incredible. Just the thing before going to bed to cool you off after a long day out riding. 

I stepped out of the basin and wrapped myself in the towel Karen had set out for me to dry off quickly before getting dressed in clean clothing they had laid out. Karen had one of the girls, Mary-Beth, give me one of her dresses until I could afford my own clothes because we were apparently close to the same size. 

The skirt was a deep green with soft accents of white, while the blouse was a nice soft blue. They didn’t exactly match but then again, we weren’t trying to impress anyone. I fixed my hair into a braided bun, loosely pinning it up. Strands of red curls softly fell around my face, impossible to control. 

I stepped out of my tent, glancing around the camp at the happenings. I noticed the other man Arthur had been with at the estate, Hosea. He sat at the table with Charles and another man who I didn’t recognize. His dark hair rested on his shoulders while his dark eyes watched me. My stomach tightened at the sight of him; it was the same look my father gave me when he was angry. Just pure anger. I glanced around, looking for Arthur or possibly Karen when another woman approached me. 

“You must be Emma. I’m Abigail. Don’t pay him no mind, that boy ain’t ever learned no manners,” she waved at the man staring at me from the table. “That’s John, my husband. He’s harmless, I promise. As long as you’re in camp, nobody will hurt you.” She guided me over towards the fire and grabbed a tin bowl and a ladle, spooning a large helping into the dish and handing it to me before going back in for another serving for herself. 

“I bet you’re real hungry, come sit with us and chat. Or just listen. It’s best to be with people again after what you’ve been through, even if you don’t want to talk,” she guided me to a small area with a log and some other folks gathered around talking and eating. Arthur’s eyes locked onto mine as soon as I walked into the circle and sat down.

I listened as a man who introduced himself as Bill Williamson talk about a story from when he was in the Army serving in the infantry. He remembered his glory days while an Irishman named Sean MacGuire compared his scars with the two named Davy and Mac Callander. Abigail pointed out who the other members of the gang were although at this point I was so tired, I’m surprised I was able to remember even her own name. 

The sun had set at this point and I bid my goodnight to Abigail and the others and headed for my tent. I opened the flap to the tent, pushing my way inside and tying it shut behind me in a barely passable bow tie. I am not sure how I managed to accomplish anything with the level of exhaustion I was feeling but, I had managed to make it into the tent, crawl into my cot and under the warm blankets Arthur had laid out for me, and immediately fall asleep. 

___________

  
  


I woke suddenly, the growl in my stomach alerting me that it was empty and ready to eat. Through the opening in my tent, I could see what little light the sun had started to offer for the day. I groaned as I stretched and got dressed, stepping out into the camp. Someone was already awake and had brewed coffee, the smell drifting through the air and tickling my nostrils. I grabbed a cup and slowly took a sip, wincing slightly at the strong bitterness that burned my tongue. 

“I was just coming to see if you were feeling hungry,I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner last night,” Arthur’s voice broke through my thoughts as he came beside me with two plates. I smiled, taking the plate and setting my cup down on a nearby table. 

“Thank you Arthur, want some coffee? It’s strong,” he grinned at the wince on my face. 

“Oh, no thank you Miss, I’ve already had some.”

“How long have you been up?” I ask.

“Not much before you,” he replied, fixing his hair under his hat and putting the worn leather back on his head. We sat down at the table and I picked at the breakfast he brought. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry it’s not anything special. Charles and I are really the only ones who hunt right now and that’s if I get a chance to go. Hosea and I are usually busy doing things for Dutch.”

“I used to hunt a lot, I’m actually pretty handy with a gun,” I take a big bite of the stew, coughing on the large chewy piece of meat. 

“Yeah, it’s not the best stew, sorry about that. We haven’t gotten a decent hunt in a while. Next time we go, you could come with us if you want.”

“Maybe I will although I don’t have any real weapons of my own anymore. I don’t even have any of my own clothes anymore. All of my things are back at the house,” I sigh heavily. 

I want to ask him to take me back to the house but the words just don’t come out so instead we sit there in silence. 

Eventually, other members of the camp start to arrive around the fire, zombies in search for coffee to start their day. Arthur greets some of them, mostly with a head nod or an occasional name. Abigail found a spot next to me and grabbed herself the last of the coffee before making a second pot. 

“How was your first night?” 

“It was nice to finally sleep somewhere other than the ground,” I answer honestly, “although it seems someone was snoring like the devil last night and that would be my only complaint.” 

Abigail giggled and ran her fingers through her hair before pulling some up into a bun. “That would be Bill most likely. You’ll get to meet everyone in the next few days. Some are out doin’ stuff but they need to be back before the end of the week. You came at an odd time for us.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s just a lot going on with the ba-” she was interrupted by Dutch calling my name from behind her. 

“Emma! Will you be so kind as to join me in my tent for a moment?” his hair had been slicked back, not a strand out of place. A shiver ran over my chest and down my arms. Something about that man didn’t sit right with me I just couldn’t quite place it yet. I nodded my excusal towards Abigail and turned to his tent. I approached cautiously, not wanting to speak first. 

“Emma, please come have a seat here with me,” he patted a chair next to him as he sat down inside his tent. A pale looking red head was sitting on the bed, smoothing her hair and attending to her makeup. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, letting a large annoyed breath out before pointing her nose up high and shifting her back to us. 

“How was your first night with us?” The man sipped his coffee, squinting his eyes as he drank. 

“It was fine, I appreciate what y’all are doin’ for me here.”

“Arthur tells me you were over at the Young plantation, O’Driscolls killed your mama and daddy, is that right?”

I blinked a few times trying to swallow the huge lump that was suddenly growing in my throat. 

“My mother passed when I was young but my father and my brother along with most of our help were killed. It was…” I trailed off, a single tear spilling over the edge of my lid and rolling down my face. Dutch reached out with his finger, wiping that tear from my cheek. My skin grew cold with his touch and I suddenly felt incredibly exposed. 

“Yes sir, that’s where I was,” I cleared my throat, wiping my hand over my cheek roughly. 

“Well, you’re welcome to stay in our camp for as long as you’d like but keep in mind, everyone pulls their own weight around here. Ms. Grimshaw will have work for you with the other girls that I’m sure you’re able to help with. Your first seven days are for you to decide if you want to stay or if you want to go but just know that we are just honest folk just trying to get by.”

“I really do appreciate you giving me a place to be Mr…” I realized I didn’t know his full name. 

“Ah Mr. Van Der Linde, but no need for such formalities, you can call me Dutch.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, standing up and leading me to the entrance of his tent. 

“I’ll have my answer for you within the week Mr. Van Der Linde,” I smiled and nodded, wondering what the next seven days had in store for me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written to:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8byjcjpSNPY&list=PL-Bt1zVnzx7Y108sOgytMrAwSo3th3Zxu&index=2&t=41s  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CapMLz5qLMM&t=388s
> 
> Follow me on social media:
> 
> instagram: sagefirephotography  
twitter: fuzzyhorse92  
https://zuluoscarech0.tumblr.com


	4. Prologue - Blackwater IV- Prepare For a Robbery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you know of the ferry in Blackwater Miss Young?” He didn't hesitate to change the topic.  
“The ferry?” A puzzled look came over my face. Odd change of subject.  
“Yes, do you happen to know the schedule?” He looked right at me, unwavering, drawing out the words.  
“Yes, I mean, I did frequent town. Why do you ask Mr. Van Der Linde?”  
“Then it’s decided,” he clapped his hands together.  
“I’m sorry? What’s been decided?” my face scrunched up, puzzled at his direction in the conversation.  
“You will accompany Arthur to scout out the ferry and in return, he will take you to your estate,” the word estate dripped with a heavy animosity, “and he will help you collect your things,” he stood waiting for my answer.  
“What business do you have with the ferry?” I had to know.  
“My business is my own Miss Young. Do we have a deal?”  
“I mean, if it’s just getting you the schedule I can-”  
“You’ll leave tomorrow morning,” he cut me off. “Arthur!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long to come out. I've been having a serious writers block. For those who are still reading, thank you for being patient. For those who are new, thank you for joining us. 
> 
> HUGE shout out to cloudsarefluffy (AGAIN) for being such an amazing friend throughout this. You've given me some of the best advice and just been an overall sweet heart.

Things start slow in the early hours in the camp. I took note of who woke first during the first few days there, usually it was Hosea followed closely by Abigail or Miss Grimshaw. I tried to keep my head down and get chores done around camp while I mulled over what Dutch asked of me. It was an unwelcome uncertainty that I wasn’t comfortable with, mostly because everything in my life had, for the most part, always been certain and for the first time ever, I had no clue what was going to come next. 

By the third day, Miss Grimshaw found me quickly after I emerged from my tent, waving her hands in the air about how the laundry wasn’t going to do itself. I worked through the day next to Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth who Abigail had introduced me to the night before. The girls were nice - they offered stories of their own lives and how they came to be a part of this gang. Mary-Beth was such a sweet girl, I found it hard to believe that someone as innocent as her could be in a gang like this but yet again, I felt like someone like myself didn’t quite belong here either. 

Tilly and Karen had their only stories too. As we talked and worked, I realised that we each had our own difficult pasts, our scars and burdens to bear and some of us bore them as badges of honor. Karen for example, wasn’t shy about her life one bit. That woman was so open, she’d make the devil himself blush. She’d learned how to shoot a gun at a young age but said she’d rather rob a man blind using only lust instead of shooting him. 

Abigail had shown to be a helpful ear, answering questions I had regarding the daily goings on and other members of the camp. She made sure I knew who was who and what was what. Real motherly behavior but from someone closer in my own age. 

“What do you think of the camp so far?” Abigail asked, bumping shoulders with mine.

“Well, I mean, I haven’t been here long enough to think much of it I guess,” I looked down into the muddy laundry water, swirling around with soap from the shirts we were washing. My hands disappeared in the water as it splashed around. When I pulled them out, you could see the red spots where they were irritated and sore from the lye in the soap we used to scrub the stains left behind in some of the fabric. 

“Things get easier in time, just you wait,” her smile reassured me slightly. 

“You hungry?”

“I’m starving actually. I could really go for some lunch right about now,” I pulled my hands from the water and dried them off on a rough towel hanging from my dress, feeling the rippled skin as I rolled my thumb and pointer finger together. 

“How do y’all do this every day? Don’t your hands hurt?” 

“I’m guessin’ you didn’t have to do much of this back where you’re from,” she gave me a soft smile that barely reached her eyes. 

“No ma’am,” 

“Don’t go callin’ me ‘ma’am’ now I ain’t old enough to be no one’s ma’am. Here, take this,” she reached into her apron and pulled out a small jar with some kind of herbal cream in it. 

“What’s that?” I opened it and took a whiff, recoiling immediately at the harsh earthy smell. 

“It’s for your hands. I got the recipe from an old Indian feller a long time ago, it works miracles.”

“Oh, well thank you Abigail. I appreciate it.” 

I rubbed the cream on my burning hands, letting it soak in. The cooling sensation immediately calmed the burns from the lye, soothing the raw pink spots between my fingers. We took a break for lunch, eating out of cans as we sat on boxes by the wagon and talked about our previous lives. I told her all about Apollo, how he came to our farm. She told me about Jack and how he was just the most wonderful little boy which is odd considering who his father is. She spoke briefly of John and what a rotten man he could be sometimes but didn’t linger on the negatives.

"Have you thought about stayin' on with us?" Abigail asked.

"I have," I replied, not offering more. 

"Well? I feel like there's a 'but' comin' after that," she leaned in towards me. 

"I have things I left behind. At the house I mean. I want to go back to get them but I feel like if I leave, Dutch might accuse me of being up to something."

"Well have you asked him?" she went back to her can of food.

"Well, no. We haven't exactly spoke since that first time," I admitted. 

"Well let's say he does let you go out and get your stuff. That's putting an awful lot of faith in you."

"Yeah, no shit. I see the way he looks at some of these guys. Like he's always brewing something up there," I tapped on my temple.

"That's just Dutch, he ain't nothin' but a big ol' softie when it comes to the gang. Cross him and you'll have another thing comin' to ya," she chuckled, leaning back against the wagon behind us. I swallowed hard, thinking about what exactly that could mean.

"Don't let him scare you," she continued on, sensing my uneasy feelings towards the man. "If you ask him, he will probably send Hosea or maybe Charles out with you, just to keep an eye on ya'." 

I considered what Abigail had said over and over. Dutch would likely let me go but only with a babysitter. Now that I've seen the gang and know where they are, I bet he doesn't want me running off to tell the lawman where they are. By the time we had finished with the laundry, washed and folded, the sun began to set and a warm stew was bubbling over the campfire. Mr. Pearson had cooked up something that could only be described as, well, brown. Lord only knows what meat was in there but at this point I’d learned not to refuse a meal, knowing how things can change so quickly that it could be your last for a while.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” I pointed to the spot on the log next to Arthur.

“I was keepin’ it warm for ya,” Arthur teased, patting the spot next to him. 

“Oh, why thank you Mr. Callahan,” I smiled, making myself comfortable. He passed me a small metal plate with some of Pearson’s stew on it and a chunk of bread. 

He read my facial expression as I picked up the spoon and kicked the meat around the plate. 

“I try not to think too much about it,” Arthur chuckled slightly before dipping his bread into the juice and taking a large bite, the brown liquid dripping slightly out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin before he took the back of his sleeve and wiped his mouth. 

I suddenly had a flashback to the floor of my father's office. My babysitter sitting in front of me, taunting me with his food as he smeared the juices of his food over the back of his sleeve and down his chin. A small bubble came from within my stomach, causing me to feel nauseous. I took a moment to close my eyes and turned the thought away from the nightmare that was hopefully now behind me. 

With my eyes still closed, I felt a nudge against my leg from a cold bottle. Arthur was patiently offering me a bottle of whiskey, silently waiting for my eager hands to take it and pour the liquid fire down my throat. The warm burn didn’t help one bit but I was able to rinse my mouth out just enough to hopefully wash away the memory. I took a mouth full, swishing it around in my cheeks, and spit it on the ground. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” he started.

“It’s not your fault, I…” I felt myself being hit with an overwhelming sense of the full gravity of the situation. A lump in the back of my throat formed, making it impossible to swallow. 

“This happens Emma, to everyone that comes here in a bad way. Just gotta let yourself catch up I guess.” 

“I just…” no words formed. 

He offered a slight smile as we sat in silence, a comfortable acknowledgement surrounding us that I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to but he was there to listen if I needed to. 

The silence grew between us, neither knowing exactly what to say to fill the sounds. For the meantime, we sat peacefully together. The company eased my nerves, letting me get comfortable. Just having someone here with me seemed to be enough. 

His voice broke through my thoughts, “so, I’m going hunting tomorrow. Hopefully there will be better stew around the corner,“ he chuckled at his poorly made joke. 

“Can’t be much worse than the shit the O’Driscoll bastards tried to feed me,” I pushed the few vegetables on my plate around with the back of the spoon. 

Arthur had grown quiet again by my mention of the O’Driscolls, his eyes fixed on the fire in front of us. I mentally kicked myself for my comment. Why did I have to drag things back down? We sat like this for a long while before Arthur spoke up again, his words barely a whisper. 

“I know it ain’t much, but I am sorry for what they did to your family.”

I let out a long sigh, pausing to think back on the events that lead me here. 

“I am too. I’m more sorry that I couldn’t do anythin’ to stop them or to help Grif,” the fire dances wildly in front of me and I watch, memorized by the heat now scorching at my skin. The smallest tear spills over the edge of my eye, running ever so slightly down my cheek. 

Arthur moved his hand to grab mine softly. His calloused hands scratched against the back of mine, waves of electricity shooting up my arm as his hand scalded me like a hot iron. The gentleness of this act was so pure, it brought more tears to my eyes. I attempted to wipe them away using the back of my free hand, but before I knew it, I was full on sobbing. 

I stood, setting my plate on my seat and turned to walk away, embarrassed by the tears and sounds coming from my chest. Arthur held my hand firmer now, pulling me gently back to him. 

“I’m going to hug you now,” he said, wrapping his arms around me gently so as to not hurt me. His arms wrapped around me, gently stroking the back of my head while I buried my head into his strong chest. I let myself go. For all the days since that day at home, for Griffin, even for my father. I let it all pour out of me, grasping to Arthur’s shirt as an anchor to hold me up from collapsing. 

Breaking through the sounds of my tears, I heard Abigail and John yelling at each other. Suddenly realizing how foolish I must look to let a man, a strange man no less, hold me while I cried, I gathered myself and slowly pulled away. His arms released me instantly, like I was a coal that suddenly became too hot to hold. 

“Thank you Mr. Callahan. I…” my voice lost behind the echo of John’s retreating footsteps from his tent. The corner of his mouth twitched at the sound of his name.

“You can just call me Arthur.” 

“That’s hardly proper for a lady, Mr. Callahan,” I laughed, rolling my eyes to let him in on the joke. 

“Morgan. My last name is Morgan,” he rubbed the back of his neck while sheepishly ducking his head. 

“Wh- what?”

“Callahan is just what I use in public and with people who don’t need to know me like that.” He stepped back, 

“Well, uh, Mr. Morgan.” I paused, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, although I’m not sure why you’re thankin’ me ma’am.”

“Just…” I paused, thinking about my reply. “Just thank you for everything,” god and that’s what I’ve chosen to settle on? 

"You're welcome," he nodded. We turned towards my tent, walking quietly together. I was the first to break the silence. 

"Hey Arthur, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think Dutch would let me leave? I mean to go back home and get some things?" I asked quietly. The silence was deafening as he pondered my question.

"Is this about him askin' if you want to stay?" he asked. 

"I think I'd like to stay but I have some things back home that I want to keep with me if I do. My gun for starters," I stopped outside my tent.

"I think he'd send you with someone if he let you go at all." I chuckled at that.

"That's what Abigail said too."

"She knows what she's talking about. Last time we had someone come by our camp, he recognized Dutch and went out to get the law. We moved that day," he sighed. 

"I don't really have anywhere else to go but home," I admitted.

"Dutch don't know that."

"Well, I guess I won't know his answer until I ask, right?" I smiled slightly, my eyes fixed on Arthur. 

"I guess not," he nodded. 

I woke up with a start from a particularly vivid nightmare just as Arthur and Charles were leaving camp on their hunting trip. I waved a small goodbye towards him as he pointed his horses nose away from us and quietly made his way out of camp. The days he was gone passed unbearably slow. Chores from Miss Grimshaw filled small parts of my day but I had been left to my own thoughts for the remaining hours. Back home, I’d spend this time out riding or painting in the fields by our house. Instead, Mary-Beth gave me some books to read of the romantic variety. 

I’d fallen into a comfortable pattern. Rising early to eat with Abigail and Mary-Beth, working with the girls doing various tasks around camp, spending time ignoring comments from Bill and Micah, all while feeling Dutch’s close eye paying a unique attentiveness to me. Every morning when I woke, I would leave my tent and find myself looking over towards Arthurs tent only to find it still empty. I couldn’t tell if I was disappointed or relieved to see that his cot was bare, the blankets a mess from when he left them. 

On the fifth day after Dutch and I had talked, Charles rode his spotted mare back into camp with a large deer tied behind his saddle. He came in quietly, keeping his head down while he rode her to a makeshift hitching post and slid off her back. 

Charles hoisted the deer off his horse and brought it to the butchering block for Pearson who made very quick work of skinning and preparing the meat. The camp would be eating well tonight, that’s for sure. As Charles walked by me, he nodded, offering a small “mmm” from the back of his throat to acknowledge me. A man of few words, I took it. 

“Looks like the trip went well,”

“Yeah, brought back some pelts to sell for the camp too,” he washed his hands in a bucket of water behind the wagon. 

“That’s something y’all do around here? Sellin’ pelts I mean,”

“Yeah, when we don’t have any jobs, Arthur and I go hunting sometimes. It’s a good way to bring in a little money, at least for the time being.”

“I used to do a lot of hunting. I’m pretty handy with a rifle you know.” 

“Huh, well maybe next time you can join us. If you’re planning on sticking around that is,” Charles dried his hands off on his pants and gave me a little nod before walking off. 

When Arthur rode back into camp, his beard looked slightly longer and scruffier than when he had left. You could see the miles he had ridden by the dirt on his clothes, patches of dust clinging to him like the first day I saw him in the general store. 

I was out grooming Apollo as he trotted down the path, dust trailing behind him. I gave him a simple wave and he nodded back to me, his lips forming in a tight line behind the overgrown scruff on his chin. I could see he had also brought a deer back for the camp along with some rabbit and a bird of some kind tied to the sides of his saddle. I wanted to be able to talk to him at some point to make sense of all this, get his opinion of camp life and see if there was a chance of me being able to leave like Charles had suggested. 

If so, then I would likely stay. This camp had everything I needed to make a comfortable life for myself for the time being. Or at least until I could get myself back on my feet. I wasn’t sure what my future held but for the time being, I thought this was as good as I was going to get. 

My mind drifted off to that old white house, my family and my belongings still inside. I thought about my mother’s necklace still laying in the jewelry box in my bedroom. There were other valuables that were hidden in various places around the house that could come in handy if the murderous men that were occupying it hadn’t already found them. 

Dutch and I would soon have to talk, my decision to stay or go hanging in the balance of our conversation. If I stayed, would that mean I couldn’t leave camp like some of the other girls? That wasn’t something I was accustomed to, staying put. If I were to stay, could I negotiate the return to my home to gather my things? To bury my brother? How many men would I have to fight my way through? 

I finished my day of chores with the other girls, listening to them talk and laugh as they went on working. I’d take the occasional glance around me to see who was doing what. Uncle was asleep up against a few sacks of grain, a snore rising deep from his chest every so often while Hosea, Javier, and Bill sat at a table playing cards. Tilly and Mary Beth folded the dry laundry while Jack ran around with Abigail, playing with his toys as she chased him around the camp. His squeals of laughter left a smile on my face, reminding me of the young kids that would play outside the school yard in Blackwater. 

Yes, this place would do just fine. 

\---

The sun was hanging just over the mountains when Dutch summoned me to his tent with a loud bellow, his eyes barely looking up from the latest novel he was reading. His hand gently caressed over his face, brows knitted together in concentration as he read. As I stepped into the shadow of his tent, he placed his book down, uncrossed his legs and let out a heavy sigh. 

“Miss Young, how are you doing this evening?” he asked, his voice bellowing out behind his neatly trimmed moustache. His dark eyes searched over me, leaving me uncomfortable under his intense gaze. 

“I’m well, Mr. Van Der Linde. And yourself?” my voice was calm and quiet. 

“I’m wonderful Miss Young, do you know why?” 

I shook my head. 

“Because I have knowledge, Miss Young. And knowledge is a powerful thing,” he stood up, boots scuffing against the makeshift floorboards. 

“Yes, I can imagine so,” I shifted uncomfortably. Dutch didn’t seem to notice the look on my face as he pushed the conversation on.

“Have you given any more thought to our talk on staying with us or not?” 

I paused, unsure of how to answer. On the one hand I had decided that this camp, these people, were safe enough to trust for the time being. I mean, where else would I go? But on the other hand, everything I knew was back at the ranch. How could I possibly move forward without going back? A small knot formed in my stomach before answering, wondering if I would be too forward to ask. 

“Yes, I have. I wanted to talk to you about that actually,” well here goes nothing, I thought. 

“Oh? What is it you’d like to discuss?”

“I think I’d like to stay but I was hoping to go back to the ranch to gather some of my things,” I hesitated, debating on telling him what kinds of things. 

Dutch paused, clearly thinking about how to respond. His hand swept at some imaginary dirt on his shirt. 

“What do you know of the ferry in Blackwater Miss Young?” He didn't hesitate to change the topic. 

“The ferry?” A puzzled look came over my face. Odd change of subject.

“Yes, do you happen to know the  _ schedule _ ?” He looked right at me, unwavering, drawing out the words.

“Yes, I mean, I did frequent town. Why do you ask Mr. Van Der Linde?” 

“Then it’s decided,” he clapped his hands together.

“I’m sorry? What’s been decided?” my face scrunched up, puzzled at his direction in the conversation. 

“You will accompany Arthur to scout out the ferry and in return, he will take you to your  _ estate,” _ the word estate dripped with a heavy animosity, “and he will help you collect your things,” he stood waiting for my answer. 

“What business do you have with the ferry?” I had to know. 

“My business is my own Miss Young. Do we have a deal?”

“I mean, if it’s just getting you the schedule I can-”

“You’ll leave tomorrow morning,” he cut me off. “Arthur!” he bellowed. 

Arthur came up beside me, slowly taking his eyes over me. 

“Emma,” he nodded. “Dutch.”

“You’ll be accompanying Miss Young to her  _ estate _ tomorrow morning. Please take your trip through town though, I have some things I need to discuss with you,” he waved me off dismissively. 

Looks like we were going to Blackwater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written to:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8T0cHQb39GY  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zufPTLuShCU  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsukHagceIM


	5. Prologue - Blackwater V - Pulling It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Emma, a pleasure as always,” Hosea stood and offered his seat to me.  
“Mornin’ boys. How goes the hunt,” I grinned cheerfully and tapped the bar.  
“Emma,” Arthur grinned behind his coffee.  
“We were just discussing this idea I had cooked up for the two of you on my ride over this morning. Wanted to get your input on it,” Hosea turned to me. Arthur sighed, clearly disapproving of whatever plan he was cooking up.  
“My input? Well, alright I guess, shoot.”  
“How do you feel about playin’ a little dress up?” Hosea smiled his usual charming smile.  
“Oh lord here we go,” said Arthur under his breath.  
“Uhm, dress up? I’m going to need a little more information than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like at the beginning of these I just keep apologizing. I started my own business last year (aug. 2019) and in the last few months things have really taken off (FINALLY) so I've been incredibly busy with work. Honestly owning your own business is amazing if you take away the fact that you're basically doing 5 peoples jobs by yourself... 
> 
> Anyways, I'm so appreciative to those who have stuck with me, kept up with the story, and keep reading. I'm thankful for you.

** _12 years ago_ **

_ I pressed my small nose against the glass of the train car. Mr. Cornwall had given us exclusive access to his private train car. He had told my father we had his train, his food, and his slaves. Even at 15 years old, I didn’t like the idea of slaves. Why couldn’t all men be free like my mama and father. The car wasn’t the only thing attached to the marvelous steam engine. Three other cars, one armored with three guards, were in front of us. _

_ Griffin sat across from me, legs sprawled out on the opposite seat and his nose stuffed into a Charles Dickens novel. He always loved reading but he was really missing the sights of the country. We passed through a dense forest, trees whipping past the window. Off in the trees I noticed a group of five or six riders sitting in the woods. How odd, just sitting there watching the train go by.  _

_ Suddenly the wheels screeched along the iron rails. The train lurched to a stop, sending all of us forward. My father looked up from his newspaper, his brandy splashing slightly out of his crystal tumbler. He looked outside, face scrunched up in annoyance of the brown liquid now dripping off the table.  _

_ “Griffin, watch your sister,” he said roughly, standing and walking towards the front of the car. He pushed open the door and walked outside, leaning over the railing to see the tracks laid out in the distance, twisted in agony from the dynamite the outlaws had used to disrupt our travel plans.  _

_ Gunshots echoed out all around the car, making my mother jump up and run to her children. She grabbed us by the arms and pulled us into the back of the car. My hair fell around my face and I brushed it back to see the scene unfolding in front of us.  _

_ I heard the horses thundering hooves before I saw them. A small gang of men galloped up to the car, guns drawn and aimed at our car. A tall and burly man burst his way into our car, aiming his gun directly at us. My mother pushed us behind her, head high as if to challenge him. He didn’t even warn us before the shot went off, sending my mother's hand to her chest. After that first loud crack of the gun, everything was a river of red.  _

  
  
  


**Present Day**

Arthur and I sat in our respective saddles as he called out saying we would be gone overnight, but promising Pearson we would bring back some rabbits or maybe a few birds. Apollo perked his ears up at Arthur’s mare, clearly excited to set out on our adventure. Boadicea swished her tail and pinned her ears back in annoyance but Arthur just gave her a gentle pat on the withers and hummed to her. 

We trotted out of camp, sending a slight trail of dust behind us. Abigail had told me she packed some food in my saddlebag along with a “nice bottle of somethin’.” I assumed it was whiskey but when I had reached in, I pulled out some Guarma rum. I was thoroughly impressed by her choice, the dark bottle feeling heavy in my hands. 

We rode in silence and I let the pounding of Apollo’s hooves carry my mind into nothingness. I closed my eyes, feeling his strong muscles underneath me as I bounced slightly in the saddle. It felt so great to get away from the camp. I wasn’t used to being surrounded by so many people in such a small space like that. The few times Griffin and I had gone camping, it was just the two of us under the stars. But this was a completely unique feeling. 

“Emma?” Arthur asked. My eyes sprang open and I suddenly realized he had asked me a question. 

“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought. What was that,” my cheeks flushed, embarrassed of my little display. 

“I asked how long you’ve lived in Blackwater.” 

“Oh... uh, well, pretty much my whole life. But I was born in Boston.” I thought back to when we arrived, the train ride from hell. 

“Hmm,” Arthur hummed. 

“What about you? Are you from Blackwater?” I asked. 

“No,” was all he gave me. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“What about your parents?” 

“Dead,” he said in a short tone. I was taken aback from how bluntly he replied. 

“I guess that’s something we both have in common,” I whispered. 

My mind made a checklist of all the things I wanted to grab while at the house. Realizing that meant I would have to go to my room where Griffin’s body surely laid, my heart sank. Could I really go back in there and see his rotting body laying on the floor? I’ve seen a dead body before, but never one rotting away after going untouched for two weeks. What if they had moved him? Bile rose slightly in my throat and I forced myself to swallow it back down. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. Knowing they possibly defiled him or seeing him bloated and rotting. 

Tears slightly welled up in my eyes but I was able to blink them away. Arthur’s eyes looked over at me for a minute before looking back towards the trail. We rode in silence until we reached a split in the trail. Left leading towards blackwater while right led towards my families ranch. Arthur slowed his horse, asking which way and I nudged Apollo past him and towards the right where he picked up into a canter after me. We ran along the path and over a hill before the house came into view. My heart sank with what I saw. 

Smoke billowed up over the hill. The barn had been completely swallowed by fire. What remained was a smouldering shell of the barn I once knew. I hoped the horses hadn’t been in the barn when it went up. Thankfully, it didn’t look like any O’Driscolls were left camping there but we couldn’t see the back of the house. 

I tied Apollo to a nearby tree, looping his reins in a loose slip knot in case we needed to make a quick escape. My boots made soft crunches in the wet grass under me as I walked around the stable. I stopped to listen, waiting to see if there were any O’Driscolls close by. 

I crept into the remains of the barn, finding a dead O’Driscoll outside near the door and pulling his pistol off his hip and some extra rounds. Dried blood crusted around his pale skin, raw and blistered from the fire. I closed my eyes, exhaling the stench that blew with the breeze coming up from the fields and stifling down my breakfast that threatened to come up. I tucked the pistol into my belt, letting it fall in front of my skirts. No horses seemed to be in the barn, thank God. 

Arthur’s boots ground the scalded grass around the barn as he walked up to me. He looked up at the charred wood. 

“I wouldn’t stay in there too long. You never know how these old barns are after a fire.” 

“The horses got out,” the corner of my mouth slid up slightly. “I guess it’s the small things, right?” We walked together towards the house.

“I’ll stay out here… keep watch and all,” Arthur said. “Take your time.”

I nodded and walked to the front door. I pulled the pistol back out and held it up, assessing the area before pushing the heavy oak door open. Hesitating, I listened for any footsteps or voices. It was as silent as the grave it had become. It looked like they had taken the time to bury their dead but it smelled like they left mine. A shudder passed through me and I looked up at the ceiling towards the bedroom where Griffin’s body surely laid. 

I walked into my father’s office, taking note of the picture frame that hid the safe. A deep breath filled my lungs when I saw the dirty blankets that still laid on the floor where I had once been held. Shaking my head of the memory, I took the framed landscape off and revealed the dial and handle for the safe in the wall. A sigh of relief escaped my mouth when the dial turned and the door unlocked, revealing a stack of bonds and cash. I grabbed the papers and stuffed them into my bag. 

My feet took me towards the stairs, heart pounding as I remembered the scene. My bedroom was at the back of the hallway to the left, Griff’s across the hall. Smells of rotting bodies hit my nose in the heat and I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what I might find. The ascend was a slow torture but I forced my feet to take each creaky step up the stairs. I felt like I was going to vomit but that was nothing for what I found when I reached the door. 

He was gone. An outline of blood stained the floor but there was no body. My knees gave out and I collapsed slightly against the door frame. A sob was stuck in the back of my throat as I clung to the frame. I’m not sure what I was expecting and although I prepared myself to find a body, I feel like this was worse. What had they done with him? 

I laid there on the floor, tears pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks as I gripped the frame for dear life. I sobbed and sobbed, letting all the horror had happened in this house pour out of me. I cried so hard that I didn’t even hear Arthur come up behind me. He had taken the stairs two at a time when he heard me scream-crying, thinking someone might have been in the house. His gun drawn, he almost tripped up the last step when he found me laying at the edge of my door.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you,” Arthur walked closer, holding his hand out to help me to my feet. 

I turned and looked at Arthur, unable to stop the water spilling out of my eyes. I don’t think Arthur even knew what he was doing before he did it. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. It was a small gesture and God did I need it. I turned my head into his chest, letting everything pour out of me. 

His hand slowly rubbed over my back, soothing me. We stayed like that for some time, Arthur whispering “let it out, it’s ok,” into my ear while I stained his shirt with my tears. After a while I pulled back, rubbing my hand over my face in an attempt to clean it off. 

I looked at his shirt, an apologetic look washing over my face. 

“I’m sorry about that, I can get you a new shirt,” I pointed at the large wet spot that now splashed the front of his shirt. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged. 

“I don’t normally act like this…” I trailed off, twisting my fingers in the hem of my blouse.

“It’s ok, I get it.” We stood in awkward silence, the air feeling thick around us. 

By the time I was done in the house, I had a bag packed with some of my clothes and personal things from my childhood that I couldn’t bear to part with. My most valued possession being my mother's emerald ring. I had kept it on a necklace that I wore every day. I clasped the ring in my fingers, letting them run over the smooth gold before tucking it in my shirt for safe keeping. In the closet of the room, I knelt down and pried open the old wood. 

The floorboard wiggled just like it had every other time I opened it. A sigh of relief came over me when I saw the gun and ammo along with some cash was still laying where I’d left it. Boots scuffed the floor behind me, making me swivel quick enough to lose my crouched balance. 

“Nice little hiding spot,” he chuckled. 

“It was the one place my father wouldn’t look,” I paused, looking back over to the blood stain that was lingering on the hardwood floor. 

“Is this where-” he trailed off. 

“We should get going,” I turned abruptly, hauling the small bag of clothing and valuables over my shoulder. 

Arthur trailed behind me, reluctant to ask any questions to which I was thankful for. I didn’t want to answer anything more about Griffin or what happened here. There was a part of me that was sad that I couldn’t see him one last time but also that part was thankful I wouldn’t have to see him that way. 

We gathered what little supplies had been left behind, provisions from the pantry, medicine bottles in the servants quarters. Most of the house had already been ransacked but there were a few things left over that would be useful to those back at camp. Arthur let me take my time, saying goodbye to the house and life I once knew. 

We rode out away from the house and this time, I knew it would truly be the last time I would ever set foot in that place. I’d rather see it burned to the ground than in the hands of another gang.  Arthur and I rode into Blackwater. The horses' hooves echoed over the stone as we trotted silently alongside each other as dusk began to settle over town. Arthur had informed me of some business he had to attend to while in town and suggested that we get a “ _ real meal” _ while in town. 

“Not that Pearson’s cooking isn’t bad, but…” he started

“Just that Pearson’s cooking is bad,” I laughed alongside him as we hitched our horses at the post by the saloon.

“You said it, not me,” he laughed. 

“That man could use a few herbs in his cooking. And what’s with the meat he uses?” 

“It’s slim picking when the huntin’ is low. Charles and I do most of it. But while Dutch has me out doin’ other things it’s hard for me to go huntin’ all the time,” Arthur shrugged and pushed his way into the saloon. We took in the tables and settled on a spot over by the bar. I let my body just relax, listening to the sound of the men and women in the bar. The man playing the piano in the corner, an old ragtime tune. Glasses clinking together over a celebration. The floorboard creaking underneath the shoes of the bartender as he walked up to the table. 

“Two whiskeys, unless…” he looked at me. 

“Two whiskeys,” I opened my eyes and nodded in agreement. A drink is exactly what I could use right about now.

“I could use them after the day we’ve had. Goin’ back there wasn’t my idea of a good time.”

The bartender poured two glasses and slid them in front of us. The face looking back at me was one I hardly recognized.  _ Fuck it _ I thought, and tipped the glass to my lips, knocking it back in one swallow. 

Arthur glanced at me with his drink halfway to his lips. The corner of his mouth popped up in a slight grin and he threw his drink back along with me. He held his fingers up for another round and asked for the menu as well. I threw back a second and then a third shot, letting the brown liquid pour down my throat and warm my belly.

“You should eat something if you’re going to be throwin’ em back like that,” he slid the menu over to me. 

“Just whatever is cheapest on here. I don’t have much to spend right now if you haven’t noticed.” He didn’t seem to like that answer because as soon as I said it, his mouth turned down in a sour scowl. 

“Nonsense. Can I get two of the prairie chickens? And you might as well just leave the bottle, we’re going to be here a while,” the bartender nodded at him, placing the bottle between us and scurried away to get our meals started. 

“You didn’t have to do that Arthur, but I appreciate it,” I poured us another round. 

“It wasn’t for you, I’m hungry too,” he laughed. 

“So what’s next for you  _ Miss Young _ ?” he asked. 

I cringed, “just call me Emma. Miss Young was my mother.”

“Alright then, Emma it is,” a smile played at his lips as the whiskey danced over his lips. I took a big sigh, drinking in the dark liquid, thinking hard before answering. 

“I have no idea. I don’t have anywhere to stay other than with you at the camp. I’m not sure Dutch really _ wants  _ me here though to be honest with you,” I admitted. Dutch was still unnerving to me. I couldn’t quite figure out his angle. 

“Well Dutch gave you an option. He’s a pretty fair man. You think you’re going to take him up on it?” 

I let out a huff of air. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew who these people are - who  _ Dutch Van Der Linde is _ . I could only speculate what business he had with the ferry, but it didn’t make me any less concerned for what I was getting mixed up in. So far in my short 27 years, I had never been mixed up with the law, except for that one time when I chased little Jimmy Brooks out of the barn with a gun and almost shot the poor kids ear off. The sheriff came knocking the next day asking about the  _ incident _ . My father was livid. Imagine what he’d say if he knew I was getting caught up with the Van Der Linde gang? The thought of the ass whooping I’d get over this made my face turn green just at the idea of not being able to sit down for a week. 

“I’m still not really sure what he wants from me to be honest with you,” I looked over at him and sipped out of the glass. 

“Well, he’s got his eye on somethin’ right now. My guess is he wants to know how much he can trust you. You’re new which means he can’t trust you at all. But you do this for him and he will do something for you. That’s the kind of man he is,” he could tell I still felt some hesitations towards the idea. 

“We can stay here tonight if they have the rooms. Think on it. He just wants us to do a little  _ inquiring _ . After a good meal and a decent rest, you can make your mind up then.”

“Hosea said he will be meetin’ us here tomorrow morning, so we will hang around and wait for him. Might take a walk in the mornin’ and see what all the fuss is about down at the docks,” Arthur’s voice grew quiet as our plates came to the table. Two steaming piles of meat and potatoes.

We ate in peace and Arthur secured a room for us. He gathered our things off the horses and hauled things up to the second floor. He had paid for a bath for both of us which I was relieved for. It had been so long since I’d been properly clean. I spent extra time in the wash tub, soaking my fingers and scrubbing my scalp. It felt so refreshing to finally be clean again. 

When I returned to the room, Arthur had set up a pillow and blankets by the fireplace for him to sleep on the floor. He didn’t offer much other than letting me know he was going to clean up. When he returned, I’d climbed into bed and already started to drift off to sleep. 

  
  


\---

Hosea showed up before the sun began to peak over the horizon. He had made his presence known down in the saloon area, making sure to grab coffee for Arthur. I found them sitting in the corner of the bar area looking over some papers. Hosea noticed me first while Arthur still looked half lodged in sleep.

“Emma, a pleasure as always,” Hosea stood and offered his seat to me. 

“Mornin’ boys. How goes the hunt,” I grinned cheerfully and tapped the bar. 

“Emma,” Arthur grinned behind his coffee. 

“We were just discussing this idea I had cooked up for the two of you on my ride over this morning. Wanted to get your input on it,” Hosea turned to me. Arthur sighed, clearly disapproving of whatever plan he was cooking up. 

“My input? Well, alright I guess, shoot.”

“How do you feel about playin’ a little dress up?” Hosea smiled his usual charming smile. 

“Oh lord here we go,” said Arthur under his breath. 

“Uhm, dress up? I’m going to need a little more information than that.”

“I’m not sure we have any, uh, jobs available to your sir,” the man at the docks said to Arthur. I could tell this was already a disaster before we got here. He insisted that we go down and look around the docks early before people were arriving for their day of work. 

“I said mister, I ain’t looki-” 

“What my husband is tryin’ to say here is that I just love lookin’ at the water this time of day and we don’t mean to be botherin’ anyone. He just knows how much I love to watch the birds!” I attempted my best southern accent as I looped my arm through Arthurs. His head nearly exploded at the gesture.

“The uh, birds, ma’am?” The dock worker looked thoroughly confused. 

“Oh yes, quite! I just love watchin’ them in the mornin’ so my  _ husband _ ,” I gripped his arm tighter, “thought ‘why not bring her down and she can watch the birds by the water’ but then we stumbled across you and got all mixed up. We didn’t mean to be causin’ no trouble now,” I smiled politely. I glanced up at Arthur who looked at me like I’d grown a second head. 

“Uhm, yes. The birds. She loves them,” his attempt at a recovery stumbled along with his shock at my sudden closeness. 

“But we don’t want to be botherin’ you none so we best just be goin’. Enjoy your day Mister!” I dragged Arthur around with me quickly and stormed away, frustrated for letting myself get into this mess. 

“Arthur what the hell was that?”

“What? I needed to get a layout of the docks and while you were off playin  _ wife _ ,” he paused at the word. “I was able to get this,” he held out a sheet of paper containing manifests for the ferry due in. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I smirked at him. I turned the pages ove, scanning the names of the boats down the list. The ferry was due in two days, carrying mostly food, supplies for the town, but also a large payroll headed for the bank. Something caught my eye.  _ Cornwall _ . I swallowed a lump in my throat, knowing exactly what kind of cash was going to be on this boat. One of the oldest family friends and I was setting up to rob him. I shoved the papers back into Arthur’s hands and gave a curt smile. 

“Let’s get back to camp, I think we have whatever it is you came for, right?” I turned towards the horses and untethered Apollo’s reins, throwing my foot into the stirrup and launching myself into the saddle with Arthur right on my heels. 

We rode back in near silence, meeting up with Hosea on the way through town. He talked most of the way back, filling in the silence. Telling stories of his wife, Bessie and their travels together. By the time we reached camp, it was almost noon and the horses were in need of a good brushing. I unpacked my things, getting my clothes and gun stashed away under my pillow for safe keeping. 

Before dinner, Dutch calls me into his tent to discuss the findings of the day. 

“Seems like it was a successful trip,” his hand stroked over his moustache as he spoke. 

“Yeah, I’d say so. Arthur give you those papers?”

“Oh yes, I noticed some decent bits coming in. Anything you’d like to share with the class Miss Young?” a devilish look in his eyes, waiting for me to speak. I hesitated. Cornwall had been friends of the family for so long. He had been good to my father, good to me even. He took care of us, even took responsibility for what happened all those years ago when my mother died. 

“No, just that the ferry is never late. The ship’s captain is a timely man and likes to be in on time. Other than that, I’m afraid I can’t be too much of help, sir.” my eyes glance away, afraid of being caught in a lie. He scans my face, seemingly knowing that I’m not telling the truth. 

“Alright, then I’d like for you to join the men when they go. You can be in charge of the horses,” he slaps his hands together and stands, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Call this a test of faith.” 


	6. Prologue - Blackwater VI - A Test Of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Arthur, my boy! Come to join in on the fun?” he laughed. 
> 
> “Dutch what the hell is this?”
> 
> “Apparently your little friend gave some bad advice. The ferry was early,” his eyes burned a hole into me. I could tell he was angry - beyond angry. 
> 
> “Dutch I swear-” 
> 
> “Did you call the agents on us too?” he got off his horse, shoving me into the wall. Arthur just stood there, watching. He knew that Dutch had a point. Hell, I knew Dutch had a point. It looked bad from this perspective. For all they knew, I had told them the wrong information and called the agents on them. 
> 
> “Are you a spy, Miss Young?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is IT - The last prologue chapter! Several things have happened since we last spoke. We are buying a house! And, my personal business has taken OFF in October so I've been incredibly busy with work. Thanks for being patient and I apologize for not having this one as long. 
> 
> Warning - Mild animal death (implied)  
Warning - Dutch is starting to show his true colors in this chapter and will be pulling them out in the next coming chapters.   
The next chapter will have Arthur's POV so stay tuned for some conflicting emotions from our beloved cowboy.

Arthur woke me early on the day the ferry was supposed to arrive. He had taken me out past the camp to an old rock wall where a crate of old whiskey bottles sat. The brown and green bottles sparkled against the early morning sun as he lined them up on the top of the uneven rocks. He yawns, stretching his hands over his head in a way that reminded me he was just as human as I am. Sleepy from the early morning, not some invincible man that I’ve seen him be the last weeks. 

He turns to his horse, grabbing a pistol off the sidearm of his saddle, and holds it out to me. 

“I know Dutch asked you to be there today. I want to make sure you can shoot before sending you into your first robbery,” he gestured towards the pistol. “I’d hoped we’d had more time to get you some practice, but I guess there’s always time for that later,” he shrugged. 

The barrel of the gun looks cold and hollow. There was a time where I would’ve jumped at the chance to shoot at these bottles. Calling myself the next female gunslinger of the west. But looking out at the glass resting there, cold and lifeless, I saw my brother's face resting beside them. 

“Arthur, I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted, swallowing the lump that was now forming. 

“I’ll be right here with you, it’s just you and me out here. No O’Driscolls. No bullets comin’ at you. Just us and some old bottles.”

“Al-alright,” the gun feels heavy as I lift it to my sights and take aim. 

Arthur takes his spot next to me, waiting for me to make a move. I breathe in, and exhale slowly, pulling the trigger on the last of the breath. The bullet whizzes by the bottle and lands somewhere beyond it. Defeated by a lousy bottle. 

“You’ve got the idea, shoot on the exhale, and leave your eyes open. You close your eyes when you pull the trigger,” he lights a cigarette, taking a long pull.

“Try again, this time aim for the center of the bottle,” he moves behind me and moves my arm to the right position. I look over my shoulder at him, his mouth curled up as he squints into the early morning sun. For a moment we just stand there before he clears his throat and steps back, letting me set myself up for the shot. 

I take a deep breath in, holding it for a brief moment before aiming, exhaling, and pulling the trigger. The glass shatters into a million pieces. A smile breaks across my lips as I round quickly to face Arthur. 

“I did it! Arthur, did you see that?” 

“I’m just glad you have it in you,” he turns back to Boadicea, taking a repeater from the saddle and handing it to me. His eyes narrow in a challenge as he thrusts the repeater towards me. 

“Think you can handle this?”

\---

We shot all of the bottles, he gave advice on how to improve while also hiding the fact that he was impressed by not only my skill but my willingness to learn from him. He viewed me almost as an equal, someone who had clearly had the knowledge of how to live from what they had, but I could tell there was some resentment there, either from my upbringing or just how I came to be a part of this whole life. 

Arthur may have doubts about me, which in my mind feels justified. I’m a nobody coming into this life that he’s lived his entire life. This is his family and who am I to come in and disrupt things? 

“Emma, darling, how are you this morning?” Hosea cheerfully greeted me by the morning stew at Pearson’s fire. 

“I’m alright Hosea, just went shooting with Arthur. Prepping for tomorrow I guess.”

“Ah yes, tomorrow. I hear that Dutch has you going into town with the others,” he sipped his coffee, clearly thinking, “How are you feeling about that? Are you nervous?” 

“This isn’t exactly what I thought I’d be doin’ with my life, to be honest with you. But Dutch just wants me there to hold the horses, so I guess I won’t be doin’ all that much but waitin’ around for everyone to get back.”

“Ah, well you know there’s still time for you to back out. You don’t have to be running with a gang. You’re a smart girl, don’t you have family somewhere you can go to?” Hosea questioned

“No,” was all I gave him.  My family was gone. My mother died years ago, and my father and brother followed her only weeks ago. The cousins I had died of cholera or tuberculosis, and any grandparents I would’ve had are long gone. 

“Well, we all have our parts to play. I just hope you know that you can go anytime you want. You aren’t stuck here, despite what some of the men might say,” he puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

“I hear you and Arthur won’t be joining us?”

“Yes, we have our own lead to follow. Not sure if anything will pan out, but you never know. I’m too old for shootouts,” he laughed. I enjoyed Hosea’s company during breakfast. We talked about our lives, he told me about his wife and their adventures. He was a man full of life. I looked out across the camp at Arthur sitting alone in his tent. 

“You know, we like having you around Emma,” he bumped me on the shoulder and nodded over towards Arthur’s tent. A slight blush creeped up my face. 

“Oh, it ain’t nothin’ like that Hosea. He’s been kind to me, that’s all.”

“He took you shooting. That’s gotta count for somethin’,” he smiled into his cup of coffee. 

“I bet he would do that for anyone,” I sipped my cup, trying to hide the ever-growing blush. 

“Maybe, but he hasn’t done it for any of the other girls,” he laughed, patting my knee before getting up and leaving for his own tent. 

Arthur chose that moment to look up, making eye contact with me from across the camp. His eyes bore a hole into me, gentle but full of fire. I could feel myself slowly melting from his gaze, not the fire I sat next to. We sat like that for a moment before I looked away, unable to take the heat any longer. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud, boisterous voice booming into the camp. 

“Alright, gang! Are we ready to mount up,” Dutch emerged from his tent, dressed and ready for the events of the day, “Emma, Javier, John, if you would be so kind as to finish what you’re doing and get your horses packed up, we have a ferry to rob.”

\---

I stood at the corner of Tallulah on the opposite end of the street from the docks tucked into the space behind the Silver Skillet Cafe. I remembered mornings when I was young and would climb up to the roof and watch people in the main street below, going about their day. I would sketch their lives and spend all my day up there avoiding them before Griffin was sent out to look for me. He always knew where to find me. Later in my years, I found more solace in nature, away from the noise amongst the flowers in the lavender fields. 

I kicked my boot in the dirt against a small rock, shuffling it around in circles. This whole “heist” as Dutch would call it, I wanted to get as far away from whatever mess was about to go down as possible. I couldn’t quite figure out how Dutch was planning this considering the sheriff was directly across the street from the ferry. There wasn’t going to be much avoiding them once they had what they came for. I braced my hands on the holster Arthur had given me. 

“Don’t shoot unless you absolutely feel you have to,” he had talked to me that morning before he and Hosea left to follow a lead of their own, “you can take a life in a blink of an eye but you can’t ever bring one back. You know that better than most of us, but you just know what you’re bein’ responsible for when you pull that trigger,” he warned. 

“I know Arthur. This ain’t the first time I’ve held a gun,” I tucked it into the holster at my hip. 

“I know it ain’t. But you don’t need to be an outlaw just because you’re running with them. You’re too good for that kinda life.”

He had meant it to be gentle, but it came out to say as if I was  _ too good _ for this. Better than them somehow. My mind played his words over and over as the dust picked up in the breeze a little off the water. Apollo let out a large sigh next to Charles’ and John’s horses. There were other horses being held in other areas over town, each in groups of two or three. 

Dutch grilled me on everything I knew about Blackwater and how it ran. What I knew about the lawmen of the town, how the ferry schedule normally ran, and then laid his plan out for the whole gang to hear. I was to hold one group of horses in town, mine, John’s and Charle’s horses. Charles had been posing as a dock worker and had gotten in with some of the men down there so he would be at the docks ready for when the ferry came. Some of the other men would show up as it arrived, waiting just over the hill. The ferry was due to arrive at noon, with $150,000 worth of bank money and it was ripe for the taking. 

I looked at the clock in the town hall across the field. The time on the clock read 11:07 am, the ferry wasn’t due for almost another hour. I had caught myself daydreaming when a voice I recognized. 

“Emma? Emma Young, is that you?” the hair stood up on the back of my neck from the high pitched voice that cut through the air. I slowly turned, cringing in anticipation for the face I would be met with. 

“Emma I thought that was you!” The thin, well-dressed man behind me smiled and ran up to me, startling Apollo to throw his head up to which the man got nervous and took a step back. 

“Jimmy,” I paused, trying hard not to let the annoyance show in my voice, “Long time no see,” my voice was flat as I could manage. 

“You look well,” he paused, wringing his hands, “I heard about your father and brother. My condolences.” 

“Thank you Jimmy, I-,” the words died as I noticed the figure riding up behind him. Pushing around him, I completely disregarded the conversation, abandoned my post, to see Arthur riding up on Boadicea. 

“What happened?” panic surprised me in my own voice, “I mean, what are you doin’ here in town?”

“Our thing, uh, finished up. Came to see if I could lend a hand,” he looked past me at the man who was now coming to my side. 

“Emma, everything alright? Is this man bothering you?” Jimmy gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing in fear. I almost wanted to laugh. Afraid? Of Arthur of all people? Sure he was an  _ outlaw _ but Jimmy didn’t know that. Unless… 

“Yeah Jimmy, this is uh,” I gave Arthur a pleading look to go with me on what I was about to say next, “my husband,” my breath stilled in my lungs as I waited for his response. 

“I was just coming to check up on,” he paused, “ _ my wife, _ ” he squinted his eyes as I flipped my eyes back between the two men. Arthur’s hand rested peacefully on his holster, ready to shoot at a moment’s need.

“Oh, my apologies, I wasn’t aware…” Jimmy held his hands up as he backed away from the situation, “Emma, it was good to se-”

Jimmy’s words were completely cut off as the echo of gunshots trail down the street. The three of us look in the direction of the commotion to see Micah, Lenny, Sean, and Mac on the dock shooting at a group of what looked like Pinkerton agents? Things burst out of control before I even knew what was happening. Bullets flying through the air as men shouted, horses running through the streets as folks ran screaming. I ducked down behind the building. All coherent thoughts vanished when a bullet splintered the wood right where my head had been not but five seconds ago. Jimmy had made a run for it, abandoning me completely. 

I felt Arthur at my side before I saw him, his gun drawn and ready. He had sent Boadicea off to safety, knowing she would return at the sound of his whistle. 

“Emma, are you hurt?” It was Arthur and from the sound of it, there wasn’t a single edge of panic in his voice.

“No, no I think I’m fine,” my hands felt around my body for any pain, but wouldn’t stop shaking. Arthur handed me the revolver that had been resting in my holster. He held his gun turned on a dime, aiming it and shooting three shots off into a man's chest in a perfect cluster as he ran towards us. 

“What the fuck were they thinking,” he growled, shaking his head. We watched as members of the gang all shouted and hollered, firing off left and right. Dutch cantered his white stallion up behind us, startling both of us. 

“Arthur, my boy! Come to join in on the fun?” he laughed. 

“Dutch what the hell is this?”

“Apparently your little friend gave some bad advice. The ferry was  _ early _ ,” his eyes burned a hole into me. I could tell he was angry - beyond angry. 

“Dutch I swear-” 

“Did you call the agents on us too?” he got off his horse, shoving me into the wall. Arthur just stood there, watching. He knew that Dutch had a point. Hell, I knew Dutch had a point. It looked bad from this perspective. For all they knew, I had told them the wrong information and called the agents on them. 

“Are you a  _ spy _ , Miss Young?” Dutch was yelling at this point. His face, so close to mine, I could see the sweat beading up at his brow under his hat, a bead rolling slowly down his brow. 

“I swear, I didn’t know anything about this. Arthur, you have to believe me,” I was practically crying at this point. 

With both men's backs to the world, they wouldn’t have seen the lawman coming up behind them with a shotgun aimed and pointed at the three of us. I was not going to die here in the middle of Blackwater by an officer with a shotgun. That was not the way I wanted to go. Although if I was being honest with myself, none of this is how I’d planned I would end up. 

Something kicked into overdrive and I held my revolver up between the men, shoving Dutch for a fraction of a second as the officer raised the shotgun. I aimed, took a breath, and pulled the trigger. He hit the ground with a sickening  _ thud _ , the back of his head exploding into fragments of blood and bone. I wanted to vomit. Arthur almost looked proud, but still couldn’t deny the situation I’d found myself in. Dutch’s attention waived from the officer on the ground back to me as he backed away from me. 

“Arthur, bring her back to camp. I’ll deal with this later,” he got back on his horse and rode away as if nothing had ever happened.

We left the horses I was guarding where they were tied as he whistled for his mare. As she ran towards us, my distraction completely on her, I was completely unaware of the three men that were about to rush us. A scream escaped my mouth just as Arthur raised his gun and fired at them. 

People say that being shot is almost like being bitten by a snake. I’d never been bitten by a snake either so I really didn’t have anything to compare it to. I think if anything, I’d imagine this is what being tortured with a hot poker felt like. The searing pain that radiated everywhere. I saw the blood before I think I really registered that I had been shot. I knew that amount of blood wasn’t a good sign but my brain was foggy. Things started to move in slow motion as I tripped over my feet, grabbing Arthur’s shirt as I fell to my knees. His attention was immediately on me, touching everywhere and nowhere. 

“I don’t understand, Arthur what’s happening?” I asked as he hoisted me onto Apollo, sliding in behind me. 

“You’re going to be ok Emma, Just keep those blue eyes on me,” he didn’t dare look at me as if I would evaporate right in front of him. 

We moved together on Apollo, galloping as fast as we could back to camp. All the while I felt so tired like I just needed a long nap and everything would be just fine when I woke up.  The last thing I remember before finally falling asleep, was Arthur hoisting me off Apollo and screaming for help as he carried me into his tent. Mrs. Grimshaw rushing in and shoo-ing him out. But after that? After that, everything was quiet.


	7. Chapter I - Colter - The Proof is in the Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know it’s probably not my place to ask, but what happened in Blackwater, Hosea?” 
> 
> “I honestly don’t know much myself, having been off with Arthur,” he sighed, taking a stick and poking the fire. 
> 
> “Arthur…” his name rolled off my lips in a whisper, “Everything just went to shit,” I remembered how he showed up right before the madness started. 
> 
> “Well, we are all glad you’re doing well,” Hosea nodded. 
> 
> “Yeah, maybe you were,” I mumbled, “Dutch sure seems like he would’ve liked to be the one to put the bullet in me himself.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH!   
I can't believe the overwhelming support I got on Tumblr for this fic. People have been so nice and I love you all. 
> 
> I have a little bit of Arthur's POV in this chapter. 
> 
> I'm so excited to keep going with the story! Emma has been an amazing character to write and I can't wait to keep writing her.

** _Arthur _ **

_ What the fuck was I doing? I barely knew this woman and yet when Dutch accused her of being a spy, I wanted to rip him apart. There was no way a woman like her could be possible of such things like he was goin’ on about. Callin’ the Pinkerton’s. I don’t even know how one would get a hold of them without being spotted. And it’s not like she had time to leave camp to be running her mouth. Christ, I don’t know why I even was thinking about something like this.  _

_ The way she pushed Dutch to shoot that officer… she didn’t hesitate for a second to kill him. She just saw a threat and took him out. And I know I shouldn’t have been as excited, but I was damn impressed with her aim. The girl did well under pressure.  _

_ But when that bullet ripped through her, it took me a minute to realize what was happening around me. I remember firing off shots left and right only to turn around at her bloody hand gripping my shirt as she fell. Her face was white as snow as I held her in my hands. My shirt, stained with her blood. Something inside me snapped the moment I looked in her eyes and saw the terror. _

_ Now, in the camp, she looked so peaceful as she slept. This woman, who I barely knew, was so fragile in my hands when I had lifted her into the saddle in front of me. Her eyes were so full of fire and life. I just couldn’t stand to see that fire burn out. It scared the life out of me.  _

_ I’d only ever been worried for one other woman but even then, the feelings weren’t as strong as they were full of desire. Mary and I had a different kind of relationship. I think some part of me wanted to try for something normal but I just didn’t have it in me. I couldn’t be anything but rotten and Mary knew that. That’s why I sent her away, back to the life she knew. Mary was too good for this life and I meant that in all senses of the statement. She was selfish and couldn’t see past who I am as a man. Couldn’t accept who I am. And damn her father for meddling with her life. She could’ve had so much better if that man was six feet under.  _

_ But Emma? Emma was too good for this life because  _ ** _she was good_ ** _ . She was pure. She may not be whole, the O’Driscoll’s saw to that and whoever else was before them I’m sure. But her soul was untainted by the outlaw life and I’ll be damned if I’d let her have a piece of it ripped away from this massive disaster that is now Blackwater.  _

_ The things we do, we are a family. We don’t think twice about firing a bullet for the man to our side. Every time we fire that gun and take a life, a piece of us is taken with it. And after so many years of runnin’ with this gang, I’m not sure I have any more to give but God damn it I’ll give everything I have if it means Emma won’t have to give anything. And that part scares the fucking life out of me.  _

_ “How is she?” I poked my head into her tent as Miss Grimshaw tended to her alongside Abigail.  _

_ “She’s spiked a fever and I’m afraid I wasn’t able to clean the wound well enough. Thankfully the bullet went straight through and didn’t hit anything major but she lost quite a bit of-” she paused, seeing the reaction on my face.  _

_ “Arthur, she’s going to pull through. She’s young and strong and you got her to us in time to clean her up,” Miss Grimshaw put her hand on my shoulder, giving me a soft pat before leaving the tent.  _

_ Abigail stood and handed him the wet cloth she had been wiping Emma’s brow with.  _

_ “Sit with her while we pack up. We have to move again after everything,” she gave me a sad look before looking back at Emma stirring in the cot.  _

_ “Thank you, Abigail. I-” my breath stopped in my lungs. I felt like the air was being choked in my throat.  _

_ “I know. It’s ok, Arthur.”  _

_ I smiled, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” I chuckled before turning towards Emma.  _

_ The crate creaked under my weight as I sat down and dipped the cloth in the cold water resting in the bucket next to the cot. The water dripped over my knuckles as I rang it out, dabbing it slightly against her brow and down her cheek, slowly and methodically moving down her neck.  _

_ I had to see she was ok for myself. I took a deep breath in and moved her shirt aside to view the patched up jagged edge sewn together by skilled hands. The wound was roughly sewn on her shoulder. It was a miracle she hadn’t been killed by a wound like this.  _

_ Lord knows how many times Miss Grimshaw had patched me up. I ran a finger along the edge of the wound. Her milk-white skin stained red from my mistake. I could feel the fire of her skin melting under my fingers. I’d been there when members of the gang had been shot before. Hell, even then I’d been responsible for some of them. But I’d never felt this guilty over it, ever.  _

_ Emma stirred under my touch, a slight moan escaping her lips and I pulled my hand back like a child that touched a burning pot for the first time. My fingertips still felt the heat from her skin and I stood to leave. This tent was way too stuffy for the two of us, I needed to get the hell out of here. But as soon as my hand reached out for the tent flap, I heard a soft voice crumble the hard shell exterior I just threw up again.  _

_ “Arthur? Is that you?” _

\---

**Emma **

_ Wake up, my darling Emma. You aren’t done yet… _

I could still hear my mother's voice, whispering to me in the dark. The warmth on my cheek from her hand. The softness of her lips on my forehead. It was so real, so convincing. I must be dead if I can feel her. I opened my eyes, letting my eyes adjust to the soft light illuminating the tent. My mother was gone, her voice fading into the darkness and being replaced by the sounds of the wind blowing through the tent. 

I could barely make out the figure in front of me. Shoulders slumping at my voice calling out to him, he slowly turned to face me. 

“Arthur, what happened?” I tried to sit up, having my question almost immediately answered from the burning pain that came shooting into my side. I cried out, falling back down into the cot beneath me. Arthur took a step towards me, almost hesitating to help me. I could see the pain in his own eyes, looking at me with some kind of pity? We sat like that for some time before I finally spoke again.

“Arthur, please. Say something,” I couldn’t take this silence. He cleared his throat with a deep cough. 

“How are you feeling?” he pointed to the injured shoulder. I sat up slightly, wincing through the pain again.

“Like I’ve been shot,” I laughed, trying to make light of the situation but it only made him wince at my words. 

“Emma, I should go,” he turned to leave. 

“Arthur, wait. Please. I’m sorry,” I managed to sit up further. 

I nodded to the crate beside me, offering it as an olive branch to him. He gingerly sat down, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The pillow molded to my head as I rolled to my side, holding my arm out to grab his hand. 

“Arthur, will you stay with me?” I held on to him, afraid he would disappear if I let go. Right as I started to fall back into my fever-induced dream I could’ve sworn I heard him say, “I’m not going anywhere darlin’.”

\---

The wind whipped through the tarp covering the wagon, Abigail, Tilly, and I were huddled up in the back of one wagon where Davey was layin’. The sounds he made with every bump were as gruesome as the next. I pulled the coat Abigail had given me around my bad shoulder, wincing as the pain shot down my back with a rather large bump in the wagon. Reverend Swanson came up to check on us asking how Davey was holding up to which Abigail told him the truth. The man was dying. If we didn’t find somewhere to wait out this storm, we’d all surely die with Davey being the first.

After leaving Blackwater behind, I’d learned we’d lost Jenny Kirk, Mac Callander, and Sean MacGuire. John Marston had been shot but managed to escape death or capture. Dutch had called for immediate movement and we went north into this god-forsaken land and got trapped in this blizzard. No fool would be stupid enough to follow us through this, or at least I’d hoped they wouldn’t. 

The ride into the mountains had been absolute hell. First the hasty packing and abrupt departure from Blackwater, then the miserable trek into this storm we’ve found ourselves lost in. With most of us ill-prepared for the snow, we found ourselves cold, wet, and in fear of death by misadventure. Most of our supplies were left behind in our quick move, and now, as nightfall wrapped its arms around us, I was feeling like death would be more inviting than this trip to wherever we were going. 

“We are gonna have to stop someplace, Dutch. Davey ain’t gonna make it much longer,” I could hear the reverend and Dutch talking between the gusts of wind. 

“Okay. I sent Arthur out looking ahead,” Dutch looked back at the group of us huddled in the wagon. 

“If we don’t stop soon, we’ll all be dying,” Hosea unsuccessfully whispered to Dutch. 

“This weather… It’s May! I’m just hoping the law got as lost as we did.”

A figure started to emerge from the shadows in the trees and a man riding a horse became visible. 

“It’s Arthur,” shouted Dutch, “Any luck?” 

I perk my head up at the mention of Arthur. We left things in a rather awkward place back in Blackwater. I wasn’t sure if he felt responsible or guilty, but whatever it was, he wouldn’t talk about it. I felt bitter and angry about how things were. Mostly at Dutch for how the whole thing went down. For him to accuse me of bein’ a spy and settin’ them all up for this? I was shot for that son-of-a-bit...

“Yeah, I found a place where we can get some shelter out of this storm,” he paused and rode closer to Dutch before lowering his voice, “let Davey rest while he…” he trailed off. “Well, you know.” He looked in the back of the wagon and frowned at us all huddled together for warmth. His eyes met mine and he pulled his lips into a tight line before looking back to Dutch. 

“It’s an old mining town, completely abandoned. It ain’t far. Come on,” he turned his borrowed horse around and gave a kick, making her whinny and grunt over the strain of walking in almost knee-high snow. The wagon jostled again making Davey groan as our group carried on to the new spot. 

\---

As we arrived, it was indeed abandoned as Arthur had said but insulated for the warmth it was not. Hosea, Dutch, and Arthur scoped out some of the buildings before letting us all pile into a large shack. Some of the men helped carry Davey in on a long wooden board. When they set him on the table, we all knew that at some point between Arthur informing us of his find, and the arrival of our party, he had died. Before that door was even closed, Miss Grimshaw was already off giving away orders. Get the fire lit, get some food, get whatever blankets we have. I admired her ability to work through chaos. 

We all stood around as a fire was lit, it’s warmth slowly creeping into the room and thawing out the air. 

“What are we going to do, we need food, supplies,” Hosea, Arthur, and Dutch huddled in the corner. 

“You are going to stay here and get warm for starters. I sent Micah and John out to scout ahead. Arthur and I, we’re gonna ride out and see if we can find one of ‘em,” he nodded to Arthur. 

“In this? Dutch are you crazy?” Arthur groaned. 

“Just for a short bit. I don’t see what other choices we have right now,” he shrugged before turning to the gang. 

“Alright everyone, listen… listen to me all of you, for a moment. Now,” he paused,” we’ve had a bad couple of days,” he chuckled, a few others joining in agreement. He looked over to where Davey lay on the table. “I loved Davey… Jenny,” he bowed his head, “Sean, Mac, they may be ok, we don’t know. But we lost some folks. And if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead, I’d do it. Gladly,” I looked up at Arthur who was watching Dutch with such admiration. 

“Now Arthur and I, we are gonna ride out and we are gonna find some food. Listen to me, everybody. We are safe now. There ain’t nobody following us through a storm like this one. And by the time they get here, well we are gonna be long gone,” he laughs along with a few others. I just sit quietly, watching the fire while he continues. 

“We’ve been through worse than this before. Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp. We are gonna be here for a few days,” he paused, the only sound was the fire crackling and a floorboard creaking under someone’s feet. 

“Now, all of you. All of you! Get yourselves warm. Stay Strong. Stay. With. Me. We ain’t done yet!” he grabbed the lantern at his side and turned on his heel, telling Arthur to come with him, letting the door swing wide open and a gust of snow to blow in. 

Arthur looked around the group, his eyes landing on me. He squinted, nodding his head before dragging his gaze away and following Dutch out the door. I felt my chest tighten slightly at his dismissive behavior. 

“Emma, how’s the shoulder?” Hosea came over, sitting next to me on a busted chair. He offered me his flask. I took a sip and handed it back, wincing at the movement. 

“Between the cold and tryin’ to thaw myself, I’m not sure how much I feel it right now,” I chuckle. 

“Being shot is no joke. We were worried about you.” 

“Abigail took good care of me,” I smiled over my shoulder to Abigail where she was tending to Jack. 

“She’s got that motherly instinct down,” he smiled, handing me a can of food that had been warming by the fire. I took it happily, shoveling the food into my mouth without a second thought. He offered me another drink, one I took gracefully to wash down my makeshift meal. I could feel the alcohol taking its effect on me. 

“I know it’s probably not my place to ask, but what happened in Blackwater, Hosea?” 

“I honestly don’t know much myself, having been off with Arthur,” he sighed, taking a stick and poking the fire. 

“Arthur…” his name rolled off my lips in a whisper, “Everything just went to shit,” I remembered how he showed up right before the madness started. 

“Well, we are all glad you’re doing well,” Hosea nodded. 

“Yeah, maybe you were,” I mumbled, “Dutch sure seems like he would’ve liked to be the one to put the bullet in me himself.” 

“That’s a dangerous thing to be thinkin’ now, what makes you say that?” Hosea shifts in his seat, offering me another drink from his flask. I took the flask gingerly with my good arm and took a generous sip. My chest felt warm from the drink and the fire that had been lit in the room. 

“It’s just the way Dutch is around me, the things he says.”

“I can’t imagine Dutch wanting to shoot someone for no good reason, Emma.” This just got me angry. 

“He accused me of bein’ a spy back in Blackwater, Hosea. Said it was my fault the Pinkertons were there,” I spit the words out.

Abigail turned, overhearing the conversation, and leaned in to comment but Hosea motioned to her to stay put. 

“Dutch has a lot to look out for these days, I’m sure he was just caught in the moment.” Hosea took a sip from his flask. “He is a man of ambition.” 

“Ambition or not, he didn’t need to be accusin’ me of being a spy. After everything I’ve been through in the last few weeks…” my chest tightened with agitation. “When would I even find the time to find the law?”

“Well, you can’t blame him considering the situation-” 

“Of course I can blame him, Hosea!” I cut him off, rising from my chair by the fire. “I lost my brother and my father to the fucking O’Driscolls, then to be held hostage by those fucking pigs and sure I was “rescued” but just brought to another prison where Dutch watched my every move. And I took a bullet for the bastard!” I was practically screaming at this point. 

“Emma, I didn’t mean any-” Hosea tried to apologize but I wasn’t hearing any of it. I was livid at this point. Who was he to defend the bastard I took a bullet for during this insane plan. And now we were stuck in the mountains because these people were following him blindly. What they saw in him I would never know but I knew one thing, I would never be blind to who Dutch is. 

“I should probably get some rest,” I stood, realizing how the drink was suddenly much stronger in my system than I anticipated. Hosea grasped me by the elbow to which I yanked my arm away, cringing at the pain I caused myself by the sudden movement. 

The room Abigail had me set up in was next to Arthur’s, something I’m sure she did intentionally. It had a flimsy door that barely held on as I opened it but the bed was warm enough. I crawled into the crumbling bed and pulled the blanket up over me. I would swear I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. 

\---

They found a house filled with O’Driscolls. They’d killed the occupants, or so they thought when Dutch, Arthur, and Micah searched the house for food, medicine, and blankets. I overheard Dutch and Hosea whispering her name when they returned two nights ago, Sadie Adler. She looked to be a woman of the wilds, her blonde hair a mess and clothing in ruins. 

My heart felt the fire she feels as she spoke to Dutch about the tragedy that befell her and her husband. I understood all too well that deep hatred for the O’Driscolls. She stuck to herself since arriving, only accepting the food and blankets given with a little more than a nod. I could tell her heart ached for the loss of her husband by the tears she let fall into her stew. Something I did often when I thought about my brother. 

But now we were faced with a new problem, John was missing. Abigail pleaded with Arthur to find him, with Arthur, muttering how it was his own fate that he came by and how a “grown man could fend for himself.” But Abigail was right. To make her a widow by leaving John to his fate would make him no better than the men who turned Ms. Adler into a widow herself. 

So he and Javier left in search, leaving Abigail to worry and Jack to know nothing of the cause. When they had returned, things looked worse than she had feared. Mauled by wolves, he would be scarred for life. Scars that maybe improved his looks from Arthur's standpoint. I had helped Abigail bring him food and blankets, keeping to my little corner so as to not stir up any unwarranted attention from Dutch.

But the days come and go, eventually allowing me a little more mobility. At least enough that I can get around more and get myself some food. The barn where the horses were kept was two buildings away from where I was staying, which was easy enough to walk to so I could go check on Apollo. I had managed to find an apple amongst the provisions and decided to pay him a visit. I had noticed his weight had dropped slightly since leaving home and this storm surely wasn’t helping at all. Seeing him like this just made my heart ache. 

  
  


“Hey, Emma, you look-” Arthur started. 

“Jesus Christ! You scared the crap out of me Arthur,” I turned around at the door of the barn after saying goodbye to Apollo and Arthur was walking by from dropping off fresh meat at Pearson’s. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just saw you comin’ out of the barn.”

“It’s alright. No harm, no foul.” I shrugged. “What were you sayin’?”

“Oh, I uh, I was sayin you look good. I’m glad you’re up and around.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” I paused, “I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

“Oh?” he lit a cigarette, taking a long drag from it. 

“Yeah. I just, I know things have been awkward since Blackwater. I just want to kind of clear the air I guess? Apologize for the way I’ve been actin’,” I pulled my coat around me tighter as the wind picked up, blowing a big gust of snow towards me.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for, Emma.” he took another deep drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke puff out in a long breath. 

“I wanted to say thank you… you know for gettin’ me out of there and back to camp.”

“No need to thank me, I would’ve done it for anyone in the gang,” he shrugged. 

“Well, still. I really appreciate what you did for me.”

“I guess I should be thankin’ you too. I appreciate you takin’ out that lawman at our backs.” 

“Yeah well, I wasn’t quite ready to take a shotgun to the face,” I laughed. Arthur chuckled with me, easing the tension slightly. We stood there together, staring at each other for a long time while the snow softly fell around us. The wind blowing my hair wildly around my face. Our breaths blowing cold clouds, mixing between us. 

“So, how’s the shoulder?” he pointed towards my healing wound. 

“Oh, this ol’ thing?” I laughed and then grimaced at the movement. “Don’t worry about me none, Arthur.”

“I’m gonna worry, Emma. I…” he trailed off. The silence crept back between us. 

“I’m really sorry about Boadicea. Abigail told me about what happened. I know how much you loved her,” I took a step closer, resting my hand on his arm. He looked down to where we touched and then back up to my face and his eyes softened. 

“She was a good mare. Trusted me through thick and thin.” He smiled. 

“Apollo seemed to really like her.”

“Ah, yeah, Apollo. Now there’s a fine horse.” he pulled away and walked towards the cabin. 

“He’s a good boy. Does right by me when I need him to.” 

“He sure does love you. You can tell when you’re with him he adores you,” Arthur took a step closer, tossing his cigarette into the snow. “Let’s head inside and get you warm. It’s too cold to be out here like this, you’ll catch a cold.” 

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Arthur stopped at the door before turning to face me, “You know, I’m glad you’re ok. And that you’re still with us you know,” he shrugged. 

“Me too, Arthur.”

\---

“Couple of days on the lam and you lot have all turned yellow.. Well except you,” Micah points to Lenny, laughing as they pass a bottle of whiskey around the circle. “I ain’t seen so many sad faces in this bunch.”

“I guess folks just miss them, you know the ones that fell back in Blackwater,” Bill lights his own cigarette, commenting in the conversation. 

“When I fall, I don’t want no fuss,” Micah grabs the bottle from Bill as Lenny says “when you fall? Oh we’ll throw a damn party,” which in turn makes Arthur, Bill, and Lenny laugh. 

“Oh a party, huh?” Micah stands and throws a punch at Bill, who jumps to defend himself. I’m being tossed between them, shouting at my injured shoulder which has since been jostled around. 

Dutch bursts in, yelling for them to cut the shit. 

“You fools over here punching each other when Colm is out there needin’ punching. Hard. All of you, come on, we’ve got work to do,” he slams the door open letting the cold air blow back in. 

Arthur and I exchange looks as he follows Dutch outside, waiting to hear of the upcoming plan. 

\---

The days continue to pass, as the storm continues, burying us deeper and deeper in the snow. Thankfully, Charles and Arthur had gone hunting and were able to get two deer and some rabbits to help feed us. Dutch and Hosea whispering plans of an attack on Colm who was also holed up here in the mountains with us. Turns out, they had the same idea and ran north like we did, making camp not too far from here.

He insists this is the right course, despite Hosea’s pleas to let people rest and Arthur’s reluctance to get caught in another firefight in the middle of a blizzard. I feel restless, staying this close to Dutch and I know it’s just so he can keep an eye on me. 

He made the final call, the attack on Colm would happen tomorrow and it would happen where all able-bodied men would go. I couldn’t believe the nerve of Dutch right now. Apparently, neither could Hosea. 

“Oh don’t look at me like that, Hosea. This is the right call. I can’t have us sitting here like a trapped animal and wait for Colm to bushwack us!” he yelled throughout the cabin. “We are gonna hit those damn O’Driscolls and we are gonna hit them hard.”

“I can’t deny that they are a threat but Dutch, think of all we’ve lost so far. Instead of playing into their hands, we need to see them on a level playing ground. Not in this god damn blizzard where we will surely all be killed!” 

“I’ve made my mind Hosea. That’ll be the end of it.” Dutch shut down the conversation. “What we need is food, medicine, and a little God-damned faith from my men,” he grumbled. 

Hosea stands from his spot by the fire, “then just get on with it then. No point in talking if you won’t listen to me.”

He storms past me to his room, muttering “first Blackwater, now this…” I can’t say I’m in disagreement with Hosea. 

By the time they return from their little “hunt”, Arthur isn’t with them. I feared the worst but then saw him riding up behind him with a body draped over the back of his horse. I recognized the sound of the voice as they tossed him to the ground. Kieran. I scrambled to the window, pressing my face against the glass to get a better look. 

Arthur looked to me, watching from the window as he cut the ropes holding him. 

“Ah you got the little shit, did you?” Dutch walked out to greet them. 

“Oh yeah, I got him,” he chuckled, giving him a boot to the leg. He grabbed him roughly by the coat and hauled him to his feet, “you want me to make him talk Dutch?” 

“Oh, no, no no. All we will get from him are lies,” he spits at him. “Tie this little maggot up and let him get nice and hungry first. I’ve got a sayin’, my friend. We shoot fellers that need shootin’. Save fellers that need savin’. And feed ‘em as need feedin’,” he paused, letting his words resonate, “We’re gonna find out exactly what you need…” He leaned in real close. “Don’t think about tryin’ nothin’. I’ve got a bullet that’s got O’Driscoll carved in it just for you,” he laughed before shooing Arthur to haul him away. I could feel myself being torn in two directions, wanting to scream in his defense but my mouth clamping shut. 

“I can’t believe it! An O’Driscoll in my camp!” Dutch shouts. 

“I ain’t an O’Driscoll mister! I hate that feller!” Kieran yelled over his shoulder as Arthur and Bill dragged him away. I pressed my hand up against the glass, willing him to see me, but Bill had already shoved his head forward towards the barn. 

Abigail appeared at my shoulder, “You ok there Emma?” She looked worried. 

“Yeah, I just thought I recognized that man…” I had to play this smart. If I appeared to know the O’Driscoll, wouldn’t that just make me look even guiltier to Dutch? Poor Kieran would be just as trapped as I now am, not even standing a chance at escape. 

“Abigail, what are they gonna do with that man?” 

“I don’t know, Dutch has never had an O’Driscoll like this. Usually, he just kills them,” she laughs. The blood drains from my face. This man, who shared his food, helped me escape, risked his life for me. He showed me bravery when the risk was high and the rewards were nothing. He was a friend during the darkest hours of my life. I couldn’t just let them kill him. Could I?

“I heard them sayin’ he ran from the fight. Dirty bastard couldn’t even stand with his gang and die like a man, had to run like a pussy,” she laughed. I gave a nervous chuckle, glancing back out the window.  _ Oh Kierian, you should’ve run faster... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music I wrote this to:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7rliJfQY8c&t=158s
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zWqULTE8SU&list=PL7QK9HAFba_iNyQaKAQf-cAVrF4l0Hqdi&index=89&t=0s
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceGLEhahLKQ


End file.
